That’d be Chloe. We hosted a barbeque with our neighbors this evening, and Chloe took it upon herself to make sure the children in attendance (all younger than her) were adequately fed and happy.

She set the picnic table under the swingset for them, took their dinner orders and served them their meals. She bestowed upon them overly generous helpings of dessert, of course.

Chloe entertained her little friends, and treated all of them gently. Amazingly enough, the three little ones she took under her wing stayed contentedly seated at the picnic table for at least 45 minutes. It was miraculous, actually. Chloe, two 2+ year olds and one four-year old. Happy as pigs in the mud.

I’m proud of my Chloe. For as much as she drives me nuts at least once a day, she pleasantly surprises me more often than not. The sudden interest she’s taken in younger children – wanting to take care of them, wanting to help them – is pretty adorable. She’s getting good practice for all those future babysitting jobs.

Three days now. The diapers have been abandoned (except at night) for three whole days. It’s pretty exciting, actually. Considering how Chloe took her dear old time becoming familiar with the potty. But if I’m being honest, it’s not really an equal playing field – Chloe didn’t have an older sister to inspire her.

I’m crossing my fingers that we’re soon going to pass along Sophie’s remaining unused diapers to our neighbor. Which would be a huge milestone, really. NO MORE DIAPERS, EVER!

But I don’t want to jump the gun. Kids often regress. But NO MORE DIAPERS, EVER! Am I sad about this? No. OK – maybe a tiny bit. It does signal the end of an era. It’s going to get harder to think of Sophie as a cuddly little toddler when she’s using the toilet regularly. Hell, she’s even speaking in full, grammatically correct (but short) sentences. She enunciates. She’s sounding less like a baby and more and more like a little girl.

And Chloe, for her part, is sounding more and more like a tween. She’s too young to be a tween. But she’s acting like one. Yesterday, she told me that she wrote a song for her new band (the assistant manager gig I wrote about the other day). “What’s it about?” I asked. “Love,” she responded. “What?” I sputtered. “Love between a boy and a girl?” To which she replied, “No. Just love. You know, love is great. That kind of thing.” I asked her to bring the song home – she wrote it in a notebook at school – but she couldn’t find it in her desk. And she couldn’t remember the lyrics.

The girls are growing up way too fast. It’s May already, for crying out loud. Oh, and did I mention that Sophie has a little boyfriend? They had several playdates this week. Not just one, but several. And she actually shares her toys with him, most of the time. It must be true love.

Chloe informed me the other day that her friends at school are forming a band. She was offered a role as back-up singer, but declined to take the job because she wouldn’t get to sing that much (which is just as well, since her singing talent is about on par with mine. And I can’t carry a tune.).

When I asked her if she was going to participate, she proudly replied that she was the Assistant Manager. That made me laugh. Because when I was a kid, not much older than Chloe is now, I once participated in the class play. I turned down a role (actually, if I’m being honest, I probably wasn’t offered a part) in the Princess and the Pea, or some other similar fairy tale adaptation, in order to serve as the producer, which I thought sounded like a really cool and powerful position. Of course, I didn’t end up doing much of anything except collect stage props, and when I got older, I realized that that’s what producers in real life do – not much of anything. But Chloe doesn’t need to know that at her tender age.

When I told her that as Assistant Manager she’d have to book gigs for the band and sign record deals, she was all smiles. Then I asked her if the band had a song. Apparently one of her friends wrote a song. A “pretty bad” song, accordingly to my wise daughter, about a girl breaking up with her boyfriend. Keep in mind that these are 7-year olds. She giggled, a bit embarrassed, as she explained the gist of the tune to me. Which provided some consolation, because I would have been extremely concerned if she was all serious about it. Unfortunately, she doesn’t remember the words, so I don’t yet know how bad it really is. But if Chloe says it’s bad, it must be really awful. I can’t wait to hear it.

My brother arrived for a visit earlier today, and Chloe and Sophie have been on their best behavior – so far. Sophie was in particularly good form.

When asked to describe what she saw at the zoo last week, Sophie told her rapt audience that she saw a polar and ducks. This wasn’t entirely accurate. But she was close. We did see this very large, lumbering grizzly bear, who was pacing back and forth on a rock.

And when Sophie went on to say that she saw the “bear’s tushy,” she wasn’t completely misremembering. We did see its butt from afar. And it was pretty big. She also saw the butts of baby swans (which she probably mistook for ducks).

She’s very into butts right now. And thinks it’s extremely funny whenever she talks about someone’s or something’s tushy. And when Chloe laughs at her commentary, that makes Sophie even happier. When Mommy, Papa and Sophie laugh at her commentary, she’s ecstatic. Oh, to be 32 months again…