Kurt declared it Family Movie Night last night. I inadvertently complied by making dinner earlier than we usually do, which meant that we could finish a whole movie before Grace had to be in bed. As I cleaned up dinner, Kurt ran up to the RedBox (oh how I love RedBox) to grab Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. Man, what a good movie. We might have to buy it.
Grace laid on the big couch with her blanket and her pillow throughout the pillow, while Kurt and I snuggled on the loveseat. And ME bounced between Grace on the couch and us on the loveseat. Or sometimes she played with her toys on the floor. A few times she wandered off, but she always wandered back.
It’s what she does. She gets something in her mind, who knows what, since she refuses to talk, and decides she needs to be elsewhere for a time. Eventually she comes wandering back.
Last night, however, she decided to wander into the kitchen. I figured she was going after some Cheerios. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve taken my eye off her only to find she’s gotten out her box of Cheerios and dug her arm into them to get herself a snack. I have to say, I don’t remember Grace ever doing such a thing. Then again, I don’t remember where I kept the cereal in my kitchen in Washington either. For all I know, it might have been out of her reach, but somehow I think it was in a lower cabinet next to the fridge. I just don’t think it ever occurred to Grace to feed her own self.
Anyhow. So last night, we’re all watching the movie, and ME has wandered off. I hear her pushing around the stools that go to our kitchen table, and I think nothing of it. She loves to “redecorate,” you see. Every time we go somewhere where there are chairs (like to the doctor’s office, where there’s a kid-sized table and chair set), she’ll spend quite a while pushing the chairs around till she gets them just the way she wants them. She’ll do the same with the stools here at the house sometimes.
A few minutes later I hear her crying. Not screaming-crying, like she’s hurt, but fussing-crying, which means she can’t figure something out. I figure I’ve got to check on her, so I heave myself off the couch and go investigate.
The problem is, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, she’s figured out how to climb the stools. And here’s where I found her last night:
I about fell over laughing. She’d gotten up into the sink to try to refill her water bottle! But once she got up there, she couldn’t figure out how to turn the water on. How dang smart is my kid, seriously??
(For the record, the stuff in the sink are clean dishes from dinner. We don’t have a dishrack, so we pile them in the “clean side” to dry.)
Once I lifted her down and refilled her water bottle, ME was happy as a clam. But we could not stop laughing. And now every so often Kurt or I will check the sink and report its baby-free status.
Oh man. I needed a good laugh yesterday. I’m so glad my kid could oblige.