My Memory Was That Good Once, I Think... I Can't Remember...

Sunday as we walked to the grocery store Fiona carried her red stuffed dog Rojo with her. A tiny piece of red fuzz fell off Rojo onto the sidewalk. Fiona scooped it up with a gasp and I offered to put it in the trash. Fiona would have none of it. She announced she was going to plant the fuzz in the garden, and promptly placed it through the fence posts on the house we'd stopped in front and let it fall into the dirt.

Two days later as we walked home, we neared the same house we'd been in front of on Sunday. Fiona has been busy checking out all the flowers in the gardens on her walk home, and as we passed this house she asked where the Rojo fuzz was. Having completely forgotten about our expedition to the grocery store, and figuring toddler diction isn't the sharpest, I figured she was looking for a red (rojo) flower (sounded like fuzz). I told her there weren't any red flowers, but if she looked over there she could see a purple one.

Fiona shook her head and looked at the dirt, and then noticed a small piece of red fuzz, which she promptly pulled out of the dirt and displayed to me.

And then she declared that the fuzz had moved.

I have to take that on faith (it took me a minute to even remember that she'd had Rojo with her the other day), but either way that's a pretty fierce memory for a three year-old, I think.