I've had a suspicion all along, but I've been in denial. But I think I need to just own up to it and admit it. I am raising an engineer.
My daughter doesn't just throw things around. She examines, she's particular, she pays attention to all details around her. She is, in effect, her father. I watched her this weekend as she took each diaper out of her diaper bag in our living room, one by one, examining each and every one carefully as if she was some sort of quality testing engineer.
I watch her in the bath tub as she takes each and every bath toy and delicately examines them and places them into the cup we use to rinse her hair. She puts all the toys in there, takes them out one by one and then puts them back in, one by one.
She examines the pages of each book when reading. She flips through pages separately, as if she were reading and absorbing every picture.
When at the doctor's office, she discovered that if she took the paper sheet that covers the table and pulled it, she could get things to come to her. Like the doctor's stethoscope.
She is her Dad. She must figure out how things work. She must examine things carefully. I am raising an engineer. Just like her Dad, just like two of her Great-Grandpas, her great-uncles...she has the engineering mind. I think this will bring me trouble later in life.
But, she's too cute. I couldn't help but laugh as she took out each and every diaper, babbling to herself as she did it. God, I love that girl.