At almost six, Beatrice is sassy, edgy, dramatic, funny, at-times sweet as sugar, helpful, and at-times tough as nails. She's pretty much sick of being photographed to death, so I get crazy facial expressions through the lens. This photo speaks volumes to me, with the perfect irony of hands-on-hip "freshie" combined with I-need-two-blankies insecurity. She's on that scary bridge between babyhood and big-girl-hood! She's singing pop songs one moment and doing baby talk another. Wants to watch PG movies, but still loves Curious George, Daniel Tiger, and Raffi more than anything. Wants to read independently, yet wants me to feed her dinner. Either pretends she doesn't know me during drop off at school or insists we go through the whole ritual of kissing hands, kissing lips and "huggies."
While playing Legos, Anthony and I asked her tonight "Who is Beatrice Foronda anyway? Give us some words that describe you, Bea." With no hesitation: "American..... Vietnamese..... American-Vietnamese...... loud, loud dancing girl."










