Petit fours

Zoe loves to hear about the day she was born. I tell her about how we rose super-early to get ready to go to the hospital, about how I couldn't see my own feet as I took my last shower during pregnancy. She knows that I was nervous and scared, but more excited that I've ever been. She knows that Daddy drove us through the dark to the hospital, and that we checked in during the quiet, early hours when it feels like no one else is awake in the whole world. I tell her the highlight reel of her entry into this world, the very best parts that make that day so special.

She knows that we took a box of pink bubble gum cigars for Daddy to hand out after she was born, and a box of petit fours to share with visitors. To this day, the child loves petit fours. We had ours decorated with a baby theme: binkies and bottles and such in pink icing on white fondant.

The other day she asked me again to talk about the day she was born. I think she is mesmerized about a day where she was there, was center stage, yet which she doesn't remember at all. I went through my story, with her now filling in parts here and there that are her favorite. We talked about the petit fours and she asked again what designs they showed.

"Oh, baby things. A bottle, a binky, a rattle..."
"And a baby butt!" she grinned.
"What?" I asked.
"A baby butt. You said some of them had a baby butt on them."
"Um, no. We didn't have baby butts on them."
"But you said that some of them had a booty on them, Mom."
"Oh, child! Baby booties! Like...shoes. Tiny baby shoes!"

It had never occurred to me that she might hear "booty" instead of "bootie" all those years ago when she first heard the story of her birth day, and it cracks me up that all this time she has thought we had little baby butts piped in pink icing on her white petit fours.