"Stop it, Carson" -- Practice Makes Perfect
Alana wandered into my office this morning to ask if I would paint her nails purple. I painted her nails purple at lunch yesterday...but that was apparently the wrong bottle of purple nail polish. I've held her off until lunch today.
She stuck around to do some drawing on my whiteboard and listen to the music playing in my office. As I continued to work, she prattled on about this and that. Fairly nonsensically.
Then, I heard, "Stop it, Carson. Stop it, Carson." Carson was not in my office at the time. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he was down in the basement. Apparently, she was just practicing -- knowing that she'll be making the statement at some point in the likely-not-too-distant future, just as she's made it in the not-too-distant past.
She stuck around to do some drawing on my whiteboard and listen to the music playing in my office. As I continued to work, she prattled on about this and that. Fairly nonsensically.
Then, I heard, "Stop it, Carson. Stop it, Carson." Carson was not in my office at the time. As a matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he was down in the basement. Apparently, she was just practicing -- knowing that she'll be making the statement at some point in the likely-not-too-distant future, just as she's made it in the not-too-distant past.