Just moments ago, as I procrastinated checking my work email by blogging, my 14-month old slid her way down the single step into the office/sunroom/playroom. She's still clad in her footy-pajamas and the corduroy jacket she's been insisting on the last few days. She padded over to the bookshelf we keep art supplies and toys on. She rifled through.
"Oh no," says the little sprite in a soft voice.
I turn my head to find her seated on the floor putting pre-cut foam stickers back into their bucket one at a time. It's as if she hopes I won't notice if she can get them back in there. Of course, she'd be making more progress with her clean up if she didn't stop to examine each one carefully and try to pull back the white paper covering the sticky side before putting in the bucket. And of course, removing each piece to check it out a second time isn't helping matters either.
She caught me watching her. She smiled as she held a foam sticker shaped like a dump truck.
"Mess," she said and returned to her clean-up.
Well, at least she's honest.