So her new thing is to press the guide button on the remote and scroll through the listings. For the Food Network, of course.
While I was home for lunch today, she was checking the evening's listings and asking me to read her the shows.
"Dad, what's on at 7 'o clock?"
"Restaurant Impossible," I said.
"What's on at 8 'o clock?"
"Restaurant Impossible."
"What's on at 9 'o clock?"
"Restaurant Impossible."
"What's on at 10 'o clock."
"Food Network Star."
Phoebe gasped. Set the remote down. And ran upstairs to find Kates.
From our bedroom: "Mom! Food Network Star is on at 10!."
This is the girl who is now in her glory that she can sit at home with her mother this summer and spend lazy mornings watching the Food Network. And in the afternoon, when Kates makes her turn off the TV, she lays out her play food on the coffee table and produces a cooking show of her own.
She explains what she's pretending to make as well as any of the Food Network chefs. She does it outside at her sandbox, too.
When I arrived home tonight, she was cooking white lime (her words for whine), rosemary and garnishes "to make a tangy vinaigrette."
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