Zoe sure thought so. She reminded us no less than a dozen times last night. "Remember, we need real money to go to the Christmas shop. REAL money. Dollar bills. Or a check."
This morning, twenty minutes before the alarm went off, she threw open our bedroom door, "Did you remember about the Christmas shop? Did you put REAL money in the envelope?"
Five minutes later: "Are you getting up yet?"
Five minutes after that, "Can I buy something for mybestfriendJordan?" It's never just "Jordan." It's always mybestfriendJordan - all one word.
We'll see, Zoe.
Michael groaned when the door opened again and turned the alarm off for good as Zoe asked yet again, "Is it time to go to school yet?"
In a minute, Zoe.
"She's awfully excited about this shopping thing," I sighed.
"She's a girl." Michael reminded me. "Isn't it in the genes?"
I shrugged. "I'm not that bad...am I?"
He snorted. "Shall I remind you of the $1400 vaccum cleaner?"
"Well, at least it's only $10."
"Yeah... this year... what about when she's sixteen?"
I think we're in trouble.