Bags

About a year ago, when leaving the house, K began to run to her toy box, to grab as many bags as she could carry (about two), three stuff animals, a random dishtowel and to then say she was ready to leave. I would look at my daughter, almost falling over the stuff and tell her there was no way she could take all that junk to the car because in the end I would have to bring it all back into the house. We would negotiate down to one bag and a doll and be on our way. It took me a couple of times before I understood what she was doing. It happened when I was ready to leave the house, holding two sweaters, the car keys, a bag with a picnic lunch, K's shoes (since she refused to put them on), a doll carriage with doll and our diaper bag. I got angry at her for insisting, again, that she wanted to take all this stuff with her and having to wait while she dug in her toybox looking for I don't know what. Then I understood. She was copying me. Everytime I leave the house, I carry a hundred pounds of equipment including clothes, food, beverages, shoes and whatever else I will need to survive two hours at the park. While looking at my daughter, laden down with her bags and toys, I realized how crazy I must look everytime I leave the house. She probably thinks it is a good thing the kitchen sink is attached to the wall otherwise I might try to take that too with us.