If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then The Boy thinks highly of us. Hhe carefully scrutinizes our actions through those wide grey eyes of his, and then mimics.
I blow on his hot food to bring it to an acceptably warm temperature at dinner. Hhe blows on his high chair tray.
The Girl rolls a ball in his direction. He swings his arm, even if uncoordinated, to roll it back.
I dust the coffee table. The Boy uses his own clean cloth to do the same.
Here's where it gets tricky. This little baby has watched every member of the family as we've done something that we currently don't want him to mimic: we've thrown unwanted items in the trash.
He's taken note of this.
The Boy has no censor to differentiate what belongs in the trash can and what doesn't. If a crayon accidentally rolls off the kitchen table, it's fair game for the garbage. A receipt that falls off the counter and drifts to the floor may never be seen again if The Boy reaches it first.
The take-home lesson is this: always keep tabs on your car keys and wallet. If left unattended and low to the ground, it's possible that they'll end up wedged next to the remnants of the day's lunch and buried beneath a mound of junk mail, never to be seen again.
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