Marlo spotted these low picnic chairs in the garage and begged me to bring them in because she “needed to build something.” Within a few minutes she had constructed a bed in the middle of the kitchen floor complete with the pillows from the couch and the stool she uses to reach the sink. Adorable, yes, but I was trying to straighten up the house a bit and fix lunch and she was smack dab in the middle of it all. Even Coco got frustrated. She follows me around and had to dodge Marlo’s flailing limbs. But do not color me concerned for the dog:
The 4-yr-old has a mechanical dog that is antagonizing the real dogs and I'm doing nothing to intervene because justice.
— Heather B. Armstrong (@dooce) February 19, 2014
When I was just a little older than Marlo my mother would move all of the kitchen chairs into the living room when she mopped the floor and I would line them up and play “train.” This meant draping a blanket over the entire thing, huddling up under the foremost one and collecting pots and pans so that I could cook meals for the passengers on board. I would continue to play this long after the floors had dried. She let me play as long as I wanted just as I let Marlo continue to rearrange this bed well into the evening. It was joyous to behold.