Anyway so the thing had about 6" of random blocks, jar lids, small stuffed animals and cups in it, and she kept putting more things in it until it was clearly approaching that "too heavy" limit. Then she tries to pick it up and set it on her little table, which is impossible because not only is it heavy for her but it's 3/4th of her height and she doesn't know to get her legs under something to lift it up, right?
I was mostly trying to figure out why she wanted it up on her table so bad. She was becoming visibly frustrated when it wasn't working out, it was really important to her.
Part of me wished she could talk so I could ask what the hell her plan was. But then I got this flashback to my own childhood, being a kid. I remember all these times when I'd be walking out the back door with a very specific assortment of items... like, a dustpan, a cup from the kitchen, four pencils, a magnifying glass and a bag of pipe cleaners.
And Dad would ask me, "Whacha doing?"
And I'd say "Nothing."
In a way I'm still like that, I don't like it when the cutting lady at the fabric store asks what I'm making, and I really hate when people look over my shoulder when I'm typing, especially if it's livejournal, I need an entry to be DONE, exposing the mental process is really stressful.
I helped Josie get the plastic bin on the table. She sat in her chair, tipped the bin over, and reached in for a toy, set the toy on the table, hit it with her hand so it'd zoom off the edge, then she'd go get it, put it back in the bin, or sometimes get another one... I don't know, it wasn't terribly consistent. I just let her do her thing.