I think my daughter is crazy. She is an eighteen-month-old ball of goofiness and fun. A primary example of her craziness: the way she tries to play with our dog, Skippy.
We keep Skippy locked in his little area of the kitchen, which we call his den. It is just safer and easier to keep Junia and him separate; he likes her, but why take chances? But Junia adores Skippy and wants to play with him. The best way to play with him when he is behind bars: throw anything and everything she can find over the gate so Skippy has plenty of toys, books, sippy-cups, fridge magnets, shoes, mail and more.
As Junia has gotten bigger, the things she is able to throw over to Skippy have also gotten bigger. Case in point: she has a little toy stroller that she can push her dolls around in. Today this stroller went up and over the gate.
Good work Junia. Throwing all that over the gate has certainly earned you a nice afternoon nap.
And like an idiot, I’ll put away all the stuff you’ve thrown over the gate, everything will be in its proper place, knowing that later today its all going back over the gate.