Put it higher

Francesca is advancing at the speed of fright. She is deeply into Hannah Montana and her music, loves clothes, adores shoes and covets all of the accoutrements of fashion. She insists on not only dressing herself but she meticulously lays out her clothes on the bed as they would be worn on the body. She is an amazing girl at four years old. She also loves jewelry. This of course includes her Mom's.

I was working the other night and heard a frantic exclamation from Di, "Gerry, I cannot find my engagement ring!!! Have you seen it?" I rushed upstairs from my office to offer assistance. "Sorry Honey, I have no clue. Do you think perhaps your daughter has it?" "Francesca?," I called, "did you see Mommy's ring?" As the minutes passed, we continued to search high and low for the engagement ring. "Di, don't worry we'll find it!"

After some time had passed and I returned to my office, Di called out with great relief, "I found it!!!" It was in a bag in a drawer where Francesca often saves a myriad of "things" that are important to her and her imaginary boss Tapanea. Di and I both decided to have a little chat with Francesca about first asking to play with other people's belongings and returning them to their proper place of residence. We spoke with her about the ring and why it is important to ask first to view it.

Francesca's response to us was quite surprising. With the full confidence of an eighteen year old girl, she said, "Next time put it higher so I cannot get it!"

Private Time

Even four year olds need private time. What was I thinking? Francesca was in our bedroom playing or thinking or something, I cannot image what! I called to her to ask a question to which there was no response at all.

Once again, I beckoned to her, Francesca! Daddy wants to talk with you. Finally, a response. "Daddy the reason I did not answer you is because I want private time. Boys and girls do not look at things the same. Boys have beards and mustaches and boy shoes and boy underwear. Girls have dresses and long hair and girl underwear and girl socks. Sometimes I want private time because I am a girl. I do not want to talk with you, sometimes."

Mostest Job

Francesca is an interesting study in responsibility.

On Sunday July 12, as we were pondering what to do for dinner, Frankie began to wax about what is her job. We are not sure what she was thinking or what even prompted her to convey her thinking. But here goes.

Francesca exclaimed, "Do you know what my job is?" "Can you tell us, please" we responded.

"My job is to:

• Eat


• Sleep


• Help Mom and Dad


• Do dishes in the sink


• Do my laundry myself


• Set the table for dinner


• Love my family


• Do my homework


• Kiss and hug Mommy


• Let Daddy send me to school and pick me up early"

Francesca stopped and thought for a moment and concluded with this. "My mostest job is to help kids to be nice to each other." Well for my money this is universal advice. And it is advice that should and could be heeded by all, including world governments. Thank you Francesca!

Best of Both Worlds

Francesca has recently taken a liking to miniature golf or golf in general. So we have been practice putting in the back yard. The other day we were playing and she reversed the club and started singing. Truly the best of both worlds, golf and being a rock star. Go get em Francesca.

Go Fly a Kite Daddy

As part of celebrating Father's Day, Di, Francesca and I went to fly a kite at Francesca's Chinese school in Cupertino. Not surprisingly, Francesca turned out to be quite the kite handler. Take a look:

"Looks Good, Thank you"

Francesca often plays and acts much older than her age. It is a thrill to watch her whether she is at "Age 4" play or at "Grown Up" play. The other day she asked if she could attend to the family's hair care needs. Here is my turn in the chair.

Cool and Hot

Francesca's brain is always on the move. I am amazed at some of the things she says and how she views her world.

We were eating lunch at the Home Depot of all places and sitting outside chomping on a hot dog. She opined, "Daddy, girls say cool and boys say hot." "That is an interesting thought," I said to myself. "Francesca, what do you mean that girls say cool and boys say hot?"

"Daddy," she exclaimed with mild concern, "girls think boys are cool and boys think girls are hot."