Margaret is figuring out clothes. She’s already gotten that socks go SOMEWHERE. Almost every day, we play a game where she brings me her socks, I hold them open, she shoves her hands in them, giggles hysterically, pulls them off and hands them back to me.
In the mornings, she picks up clothes and hands them to me to put them on. Sometimes even in the right order.
And yesterday, when she wanted to go outside, she brought my shoes over to me and put them on my feet. Not on the right feet, mind you, but on feet, which seems like enough at this age.
This weekend, Caty came over to celebrate her end-of-Spring-Break snowstorm, and Margaret was entranced by her boots.
She seems ready to go with her enormous feet.
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