Trash

Beatrice is such an independent girl nowadays. She likes to put her own shoes on, take her diaper off, and pick out her hair bows for the day. She can go to the toy box and get out her blocks, build a tower, and clean it up all by herself. If I need to get dinner going, I ask her to help me and she "cooks" with a wooden spoon and tupperware. She can finally follow directions and do things on her own and it's pretty great. 

Her newest thing is to throw away trash. It started with wadded up receipts she'd find in my purse. "Trash, mama," she would say as she toddled to the pantry trash can to throw it away. Such a helper. We have since moved on to carpet fuzzies, stickers that have lost their sticky, and food that falls on the ground. After the 5 second rule has passed, of course. This is all very helpful, as you can imagine. However, she has begun to throw away some non-trash items as well. I have found my wallet, lipgloss, our electric bill, sippy cups, and my keys in the trash. These are very clearly not trash and I'm a bit nervous that with my pregnancy brain, I will forget to look through the trash before it gets thrown out and lose some vital possession. Like money. Or my phone. Or my makeup. That stuff is vital not just for me, but so the rest of  humanity's eyes won't bleed upon catching a glimpse of me without it. Shudder.  

Oh look, a sticker.

I wonder if it's still sticky. 

Nope. Trash, mama!