If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then Kerrington thinks highly of us. She carefully scrutinizes our actions through those wide blue eyes of hers, and then mimics.
I blow on her hot food to bring it to an acceptably warm temperature at dinner. She blows on her high chair tray.
Joel rolls a ball her direction. She swings her arm, even if uncoordinated, to roll it back.
Here's where it gets tricky. This little baby has watched every member of the family as we've done something that we currently don't want her to mimic: we've thrown unwanted items in the trash.
She's taken note of this.
Kerrington has no censor to differentiate what belongs in the trash can and what doesn't. If a crayon accidentally rolls off the kitchen table, it's fair game for the garbage. A receipt that falls off the counter and drifts to the floor may never be seen again if Kerrington reaches it first.
The take-home lesson is this: always keep tabs on your car keys and wallet. If left unattended and low to the ground, it's possible that they'll end up wedged next to the remnants of the day's lunch and buried beneath a mound of junk mail.