Tonight I got a call from my sister. Several of the girls were visiting my dad, and he mentioned he's going to call our baby, "Kanga."
Confused, they asked, "Kanga, like kangaroo? Why?"
His reply, "Because they named their baby Joey."
"JOEY?! It's Zoey! With a Z!"
He said on the birth announcement that cursive Z looks just like a J, it was an honest mistake, and that he didn't read the rest of the post to learn our fascinating reasoning behind the name, our spelling explanation, nor any other information relevant to a doting grandfather.
She told me, "He's sitting there in the chair with his arms crossed just beet red he's so embarrassed!" Well, he should be. For TWO WEEKS he thought his new granddaugther's name was Joey. Not that it's not a nice name, even for a girl, it's just that it's the WRONG name!
Mom was such a fun target to tease (I wonder where I get it from...), so it's so wonderful of Dad to fill in that role now. I just hope he can take it as well as he has always dished it out! Go, Dad: we love you and hope you continue to keep us entertained!