Ominous Quiet

Lest you be horrified at the compost scene . . . well, I can’t help you.  But it was fresh compost!  And where was I?  Standing next to Katherine, washing dishes as she slipped behind me and started her mischief.

I wish I had a picture of Katherine’s adventure the day before she discovered the compost.  We’d just come in from the grocery store and the final garden run of the year.  We had reusable grocery bags all over the floor, and Katherine had a great time digging in the bags and coming up with a tub of butter or whatnot.  But it was quiet for a minute, and when I turned around she had dived head-first into the parsnips that Sydney had gathered from his garden.  He’d just dug them out of the frozen ground, and there was as much mud as parsnip.  Katherine had mud on her hands, her face, the front of her jumper, her toy–and she’s never looked prouder of herself.

We’re discovering that anytime she’s quiet (unless she’s in the crib) she’s probably headed for trouble.  I’ve now caught her countless times, watching the diaper bottom round the corner, as she headed for either kitty litter or kitty food.  She never fails to spot those times when we leave the door open.


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