Out Little Homing Device

If my husband and I ever misplace a small object, we simply need to place Kerrington on the ground.  It's foolproof.  From her low vantage point, she spots small objects, crawls toward them, and crams them into her mouth.  She's a heat-seeking missile.  She's a homing device.  She's better than a metal detector.

She makes me wonder how second, third, and fourth children survive.

Despite frequent reminders, our older girls casually litter the floor with choking hazards.  Marbles from Hungry Hungry Hippos.  Plastic shoes from Polly Pockets.  The cap from a chap stick.

None of these objects are too small to escape Kerrington's notice.  She found a misplaced back of an earring embedded in our berber carpeting.  She finds rock salt crystals that hitchhike into our house on our winter boots and are stomped onto the welcome mat.  Scraps of paper, pen caps, a dropped penny.  She sees it all.

This is why I find it so curious that this same baby would crawl off of a bed without batting an eye.  She can detect a pebble, but apparently she can't perceive an imminent three foot drop.  Last night I propped her up on her sister's bed momentarily and watched as she shimmied right to the edge and continued, unalarmed, into open air and my waiting arms.

Such trust.  Of course you'd catch me, her little smirk seemed to say.

Then I set her down and she made a beeline for a tiny puzzle piece, as is customary.