The chapel doors seem to say to me . . .

Zoe and I have been having some interesting conversations lately. Usually they occur at church, as we're wandering the halls, trying NOT to sleep, be reverent, or sit still. All skills she's mastered (the not part, that is) but feels no one can develop too much. She's trying to teach me her skills and grows restless at my lack of teachability (teachableness? learnin? padewan-focus? What's the right word here?). A few incredibly uplifting Sabbath days ago, I was trying desperately to distract my little exhausted whirl-wind of temper tantrum from my Restlessness Lessons (I truly am a poor padewan) and we stood by the doors to the church looking out at the world.

"What do you see?" I asked.
Zoe: "doddy!" (for those of you not up on Zoe-speak, I'll translate. That means doggie)
me: "What's it doing?"
Zoe: "ee bapple." (eating apples)
Me: "Really? What's a doggy say?"
Zoe: "I on bapple!" (I want apples!)

When I told the kids this on the way home, they about busted a gut laughing. Zoe had no idea what was funny but she joined in with her extra-loud courtesy laugh. Jonah, had he not been buckled in his car seat (aren't I a conscientious, law-abiding mom?), would have fallen out of his chair. As it was, he almost had an anurism from laughing so hard. Is that possible? Chris will read this and roll his eyes at my lack of medical knowledge. Jonah still asks me to repeat this story regularly and asks Zoe what a doggy says in the hopes she'll say "I on bapple".

Yesterday, another lovely, uplifting and spiritually fulfilling Sabbath day, Zoe slipped away from me. I promise I only looked away for a nano-second and turned back to find her little legs a-blur as she booked it down the hall. I had no idea she was so familiar with what was behind all those closed doors, but apparently she's a lot more aware than I give her credit for. No wonder she gets so frustrated with me! As she's running as fast as her little legs can carry her (which happens to be a smidge faster than mom can run in her skirt and stupid-church shoes) she's calling out to the doors:

(running past the nursery) "I on (want) pay toys! I on kakkers!" (crackers)

"I on pa-ee" (past the bathroom, holding herself like her role-model Aiden does)

"I on dink!" (past the drinking fountain)

"I on dad-ee!" (past the primary room)

"I on dad-ee!" (past the library)

(Arriving at daddy's classroom door) "DAD-EEEE!!!!!!!"

Turns out the kiddos on his side of the door were louder than the screaming toddler without and he didn't hear the ruckus. The Bishop's door started to open however, so I snatched up my disciple of Satan and ducked into the nearest open door before he could come out and, I don't know? Excommunicate us? Give her a sucker and bring out even more of her restless-super-powers? Give me a calling in Nursery? Why risk it?

Once again, Jonah found this all to be particularly hilarious. I think he's living vicariously through Zoe and misses the good ol' days!

I can't wait to see what next Sunday will bring! Oooh! Stake Conference! Plenty of fodder for Zoe's Restlessness lessons. Who knows, perhaps Aiden will join in on the fun and give me a few pointers too!