Since Zoe and Leo have been on each other’s minds, we thought we should get the two together. Our families met up at Gilroy Gardens yesterday, and we had a blast – even Avery, who took to Zoe’s buddy right away. (“Bye-bye, Leo,” she called out before giving him a hug – something she doesn’t do to just anyone!)

-M

I haven’t blogged about it much (sentimental posts coming soon), but there some big changes ahead for Avery. Next week is her last week at Elena’s, and on Aug. 29 she enters the two/three-year-old class at Zoe’s school. This means, of course, that Avery and I won’t have our Friday mornings together – and yesterday we had our last regularly scheduled playdate with her friends Greta, who she met when she was just a few months old, and Natalia. I know they’ll all play together again soon, but we still had to mark the occasion with some photos!

-M

The girls are in a bit of a “mommy” phase. Most mornings these days, right when they wake up they take turns calling out my name – and, in a bit of sibling rivalry – they try to one-up each other by yelling a little longer or a little louder than their sister just did. Often one of them will also call out, “My mommy!” to which the other will answer, “No, my mommy!” (This usually goes on for a few minutes, as I try to muster the energy to get out of bed.) And once I’ve greeted and gathered the girls, the competitiveness often continues, with both trying to sit or lay in my lap and pushing the other out of the way. My explanation that I have two arms for a reason and that there’s more than enough room for both of them usually does nothing for them; invariably, one of them walks away in a huff (or starts crying).

I suppose I could get annoyed by having my sleep so abruptly interrupted by the yelling, or by being climbed and pulled on before I’ve had a chance to even really wake up. But I can’t complain. I know this is just a (sweet) phase – one that won’t last long, and one that I’ll someday look back upon fondly. And so, those “My mommys” are going to be met with smiles (albeit tired ones).

-M

When in a devilish mood, Avery makes it tough for me to take a good photo. Long gone is the “cheese”-y smile; these days she’s more likely to close her eyes, scrunch up her face and/or refuse to look at the camera when I ask her to smile. (Still cute, though!)

-M

Dinners with two kids is always a challenging: There are only a handful of things (chicken and rice and peanut-butter sandwiches being two) that both my girls will eat. And complicating matters, Avery has been rather picky lately, often wanting to eat nothing but fruit, cereal or cheese sticks. (Pasta and pizza, things that a lot of kids love? Avery has little interest.)

I thought I had hit a home-run last night, though: Both girls like sandwiches and love cheese, so I was feeling confident about my menu of tuna melts and baby carrots. Zoe was pleased, but Avery: not so much. She looked at her plate, picked up the sandwich and handed it to me, saying, “No that, Mommy.”

I had to laugh.

-M

Hoping to bring good luck to the Giants, who have been in a bit of a slump lately, Zoe and Q headed back to the ballpark for a game yesterday. (It worked: The Giants won!) Not only was it a good game, but Zoe got to sport her new panda hat and we got two free Brian Wilson jerseys – one for me, and one for Zoe. (And Avery made me laugh when I tried on the grey shirt, which matched the one she saw Q wear to the game. “Hi, Daddy,” she said to me, with a wave and big smile.)

-M

I’ve mentioned before that once your kids starts preschool, you become part of the birthday party circuit, too. (Some months, it’s common to have a party every weekend.) I actually really like the parties; while the kids play and race around with their friends, us parents gets to drink coffee, chat and gossip with other adults, and reminisce about the days when parties started at 10 PM, not 10 AM.

Here are some pictures from our latest party at a nearby playground; Zoe’s buddy Lev turned five.

-M

I was making plans with the mom of Zoe’s friend Leo yesterday, when she told me a cute story about him. Just the day before, he had asked her what a fiancé was, and after she explained he told her, “Maybe Zoe Browdy can be my fiancé.”

Just a few hours later, I went to pick up Zoe at camp. After walking out with another little boy named Leo, she said to me, “You know my other friend Leo? I’m going to marry him.” I had no idea where that came from – she has never mentioned marrying someone before, and I hadn’t yet told her what Leo had said – and I stopped in my tracks. Perhaps these two are destined for something!

-M

Zoe and Avery do tons of pretend baking (cupcakes and birthday cake are their specialities), but last night they did some of the real thing. And I’m happy to report that their blueberry muffins, which Avery and I brought to a playdate this morning, were a success!

-M

Avery was supposed to be napping the other day, but she clearly had more important things – like reading and singing – on her agenda…

-M

…And, then, Zoe will say things that a teen-ager would never say (but a mature four-and-a-half-year old would). Like last night, when Avery and I were playing together in Avery’s room. “Could you be a little quieter?” Zoe called out from the other room, where she was lying down and watching a pre-bed show. “It’s quiet time around here.”

-M

Living with a four-and-half-year old can feel, at times, like sharing a house with a teen-ager. Consider these recent interactions:

-After asking Zoe to get ready for bed numerous times the other night, I found her – fully clothed – sitting on the couch with her dad. “Did you put your pajamas on?” I asked her. “Did I say I would?” was her response.

-Following a recent bath, I wanted Zoe’s help putting away some of her water toys. “Zoe, come put your boat away,” I called out to her. “You know where it goes,” she answered.

-This morning Zoe was mumbling something in the bathroom. “What did you say, honey?” I asked, assuming she was talking to me. In an exasperated tone, she answered, “I’m talking to myself. Don’t worry about it.”

Zoe told me recently that a friend at camp calls her grandma Bubbe (the Yiddish term for grandmother), which prompted a discussion of different ways to say grandparents. After I told her that the Hebrew word for grandpa is Sabba, she commented, “I thought you didn’t know Hebrew.” I know a few words, I said, to which she responded, “But Daddy is the best Hebrew boy in the world. And Safta is the best Hebrew girl.” And then, after a brief silence, “And Uncle Gil, too.”

-M