I was proud of my little girl this morning.
My wife left early for a babysitting job, so I was flying solo getting Brenna and myself ready to exit the domicile. Brenna was fairly entertained by TV while I showered, etc.
Early on I had put a breakfast with my bag near the door. The dogs were stuck in the kitchen, so I didn't need to worry about them eating it, but I hadn't considered that Brenna might hide it somewhere. When we were about to leave, I noticed it missing.
I looked all over for it, with the image in my head of the dogs sniffing it out after we left. I looked in the rooms Brenna could have carried it, and I didn't see it anywhere. Finally I decided to go to the source. I was going to ask my 2.5 year-old what she did with my cup of dry oatmeal, an action that could be pretty far back in the mists of time as far as she's concerned. Nevertheless, this was my last hope of keeping it from the dogs.
So, turn off the TV. That gets her attention. "Brenna. There was a brown cup here?" She knows what a brown cup is, and she can tell what I mean when I point and say "here." I continued, "Where'd it go?" She knows this phrase too. Still, I wasn't sure she understood I was asking her for information, since we do that so rarely. Nearly all our communication with her is one way: ideas and requests go to her, not back.
She gets up and walks over to me and the bag. I'm thinking to myself, "darn, she thinks I'm asking her to look here for the cup, but it's not here." I'm starting to protest when she opens the zipper on the bag and shows me that the brown cup is inside the bag.
I hugged her and thanked her profusely. What a good girl!
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