Disclaimer: Not mine, okay? Be nice and don't sue, eh? I don't have anything to give you.
She's two, already. Feels like every time I look at this kid, she's growing and I'm getting older.
She's definitely her mother's daughter, that's for sure. Olivia and the toddler in the high chair beside me look frighteningly alike, sometimes. And the behavior is the same. Little Ava is every bit as stubborn as her mother; she proved that when she refused to go to sleep as an infant.
Olivia abandoned the bowl of green Jello she was eating, when she went down to get the mail. I have no idea why she eats the stuff. She doesn't make a habit of it, but every now and then, she'll make it.
I pick the bowl up and the substance moves, jiggling. Ava watches it, dark eyes wide and curious. I set it in front of her and curiosity takes over. She pokes it, giggling and then picks up the whole bowl and dumps it on the tray of the high chair, giggling again as she digs her fingers into it.
When Olivia comes back, mail in hand, there's Jello in Ava's dark hair and the bowl's been discarded to the floor. She just stands there, shaking her head. "She's got you wrapped around her little finger, John," she comments, stooping to pick up the discarded dish.
"Ma!" Ava waves her hands, splattering Liv with Jello.
Olivia grins, trying to hold back a laugh.
"Looks like I'm not the only one. How'd we up slaves to a child, Liv?"
"Dunno," she answers, moving into the kitchen. "But there's nothing wrong with that."