Today on the way to the sitter's house, E asked to hold my keys. Because we were in an enclosed space in which I could pretty well trust she wouldn't be able to lose them (a whole different story), I obliged. Only a few seconds later, she handed them back to me, apparently finished.
I drove on, already at work in my mind, thinking of emails and conversations and deadlines, when I heard E from the back seat:
"Pretty. Pretty, mama. Pretty."
I turned the rear-view mirror so I could take a glance, and found that she had snagged my flash drive from its soft case attached to my keys in the few seconds she'd had them before. I looked back just in time to see her pull off the top, lift it to her mouth, and begin pretending she was putting on lipstick. Oh dear.
Fast forward to this afternoon when I stopped by my husband's frisbee team practice. E came running to me, huge grin on her face, laughing hysterically. I didn't really know what was so funny until I took a closer look. Mud...smeared all over her face, all down the front of her pants. Now, down the front of the pants is understandable for a toddler who is still rather clumsy. But her face? Right about that time, my husband walked over to me and caught me studying the red clay caked on her nose. "Yeah," he said, "That's because she was eating dirt again." Eating dirt? Again?!?
Oh well. At least we know she's well-balanced.
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