This weekend I discovered that if I leave the plastic child-safety mechanism unlocked between the handles on the household cleansers cabinet underneath the kitchen sink that Leta will spend several minutes locking and then unlocking the mechanism over and over again — lock, unlock, lock, unlock — without once pausing to realize the wealth of dangerous substances sitting behind the cabinet door with which she could score an excellent high or land herself squarely in the living room of a foster home. She is simultaneously the most focused and most air-headed combination of our genes possible.
Looks like we’re raising a cheerleader.
