Zoe made me laugh the other day when I was reminiscing – and playfully testing her – about what we had done the night before. “Who went: you, me and Avery?” I asked about our dinner out. “No, you’re missing someone,” she replied. “A boy named Q. And that’s my daddy.”

(I love that she calls him “a boy” – and that she isn’t at all fazed that we call her dad “Q!”)

-M

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