There is now a room in our house (used to be our bedroom, but now with the stairs turned the other way and the wall half opened up and the closet gone it isn’t) that we keep the children in most of the time. It feels kind of cruel, but on the other hand, it’s where the toys live, and it makes it easy to watch them. Because the toys can get out and do all sorts of havoc-wreaking if they’re not watched. Whee! Ambiguous pronouns just get me going. How about you?
Anyway, this room is (mostly) a hit with the young fry, but I think that in part Margaret is just glad to get her toy stove back. She’s been cooking up a storm since we got back in the house, and it is interesting to see that her ideas of cooking have evolved since we left in July.
For example, she made Ellie a sandwich that is, except for the fact that it is made out of wood, a sandwich.
Of course, she gave it to Ellie, which was a move of dubious intelligence, if you want your wooden sandwich to remain uneaten, but she does like to share with her sister. Sometimes. When it suits her.
Anyway, Ellie enjoyed it, wooden or not. It was something that she could put on the floor and then lift up again, which are the best kinds of things, as far as she is concerned.
But she decided that instead of the nice sandwich Margaret had made her, she was going to go for a metal pot. You know, for a balanced diet.