Today, I am told, Sasha was given Play-Doh to play with. She did not try to eat it. She practiced cutting it with a little plastic knife. And out of all the children there, most of whom are older than her by varying amounts, she was unique in one respect.
When Roro said "OK, it's time to clean up!" ...Sasha did. She took the dough, balled it up, shoved it back into the little plastic cup, and handed it back.
This is only one instance of an increasing affinity toward tidiness that she displays. I ask you, gentle readers: how is it that a child of mine and Matt's should understand the first thing about cleaning up, much less so early in life? It can't be nature, because those genes missed both of US. And it can't be nurture, because WE sure aren't showing her how. There is cosmic irony in this, somewhere.
My kitchen is: Lo, a battlefield littered with the bodies of dead and dying ants. The ant traps don't interest them. I have resorted to Lysol spray on sight. They're coming in through what can only be a gap in the weatherstripping of the back door; I need to find a way to plug it, because I'm really very tired of killing ants. It just can't be good for my karmic destiny.
Posted by andrea at October 21, 2003 11:03 PM