I know you love Christmas
Zoë had a splendid Christmas. She got what she wanted from Santa (a small Mushabelly dog, which she has named "Fred", to be the puppy of her big Mushabelly dog, who is called Spot and is Fred's dad, or so she informed us), and a lot of other stuff, too, including some new doll house furniture and people, books, a new blanket with ponies on it, the usual assortment of pretty dresses (Nanna, you see, has three sons...), new building magnets, a Lego kit to build what she called "Future Car" (i.e., it looks just like the Delorean in Back to the Future), and various other goodies. A favourite is the small shopping trolley which she built herself, and which she now uses to carry her many "pets" all around the house. We were also amused when we asked her if she knew what the toy lawnmower was. She replied, "It's a... a grass machine!" (and so it is, too).
She was quite well-behaved at mealtimes and in the company of visitors, and when she had enough of being around people, she just removed herself to a quieter part of the house (a tactic I also employ).
She is also convinced that today is the first day of Christmas, and tomorrow is the second day of Christmas and so on. I'm wondering what she's going to do when we actually get to Twelfth Night (we're not planning a costume ball or anything, although it would be fun to celebrate Twelfth Night, I think, with, as the tradition goes, "much merriment").
At one point during the day she came up to me and gave me a big cuddle and said to me, "You say, I know you love Christmas." And I did. And I do.
Grandpop needs a shave
Zoë walked up to her grandfather, who was sitting without a shirt on a hot day (this is not a common practice for him). She looked at him and then rubbed the hair on his shoulder and said, "You got hair like Dad!" (She was referring specifically to having body hair; in fact her dad doesn't have hair on his shoulders, but he is pretty hairy.)
Grandpop agreed that he is, indeed, hairy. Zoë continued, "You need to shave?" Grandpop laughed and said, "No, not there." Zoë grinned and said, "Just your face?" to which Grandpop agreed. Just his face.
I later pointed out that Dad has hair all over his face, too. Zoë found this quite amusing, and she didn't suggest that Dad should shave his face (she's not at all impressed with pictures of him beardless!).
Stickers
Another Zoë story, that is, a story told by Zoë, which doesn't start where most people would think to start a story.
Miranda: Zoë has stickers on her dress.
Me: Zoë, what are the stickers for?
Zoë: For the winner.
Me: The winner? Did you win something?
Zoë: I won at bingo.
Me: Oh, bingo. Where you get the numbers in a row?
Zoë: Yes, I got the numbers in a row two times.
(And she had two stickers.)
Now, that seems pretty minor, I know, but it was a full conversation with a child who really didn't speak at all until she was well over three years old. That, however, is beside the point. The thing with the story is that most people would start the conversation with, "We played bingo today," or "I won playing bingo," or similar. Even if they didn't think to bring it up, when the stickers were noted, the usual thing would be to say something like, "I won them at bingo," rather than "They were for the winner." It's like Zoë and the rainbow lorikeet biting her finger, which began with, "I hurt my finger".
Zoë's dad has noted that she simply starts a story with whatever she considers the most important. In the case of the lorikeet, the most important part was that she hurt her finger. With the stickers, the most important part was that she got them as a prize, she got them for being the winner.
The more Zoë communicates, the more we can see glimpses of the inner workings of her thoughts and reasoning. And she thinks like a computer programmer, or maybe an engineer, but that's hard to say (I've known a lot more programmers than engineers). Go to what's important first, and go from there. Makes sense to a lot of people, including Zoë.
A New Baby
Zoë and I had an interesting conversation on Sunday, when it was just the two of us at home (Dad and sister went out to a concert Nanna was playing for; Zoë and I stayed home and chilled).
She informed me that we need "a new baby". After making sure she meant a real baby and not a baby doll, I asked her where she thought we might get a new baby. She pointed to my belly. I smiled and asked her why she thought we needed a new baby, and she said, "Because Miranda and I aren't babies any more." She suggest that, "Next weekend, you could go to hospital," (which, of course, is where most people get their new babies). I did tell her that it takes more than a week for a baby to grow, but I'm not sure she was that interested in my explanation.
She then went on to insist that the new baby must be a girl. I asked her about having a boy baby, and she was clear that it had to be a girl baby, not a boy baby.
Why, you might wonder. I know I did. After our conversation, which was good natured and involved a lot of giggling, cuddling, and smiling, I had a think about it. It seems that Zoë is under the impression that every house needs to have at least one baby girl in it, and since she and Miranda aren't babies any more, we need another. This is the "conservation of girl babies" theory, I think.
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