Screech. Screeeech. SCREEEEEECH!
I pause from loading the dishwasher and find Laurel dragging the chairs around the dining table. They resist against the tile floor and complain quite loudly.
"Aw, Laurel, are you redecorating the eating area?" I comment.
Too busy to answer, she continues moving the chairs around. SCREEEEEEEEEEECH! SCREECH! SCREECH!
All the chairs are now corralled together on one side of the room. She squeezes her little body between them and climbs onto the one in the middle. Proudly she sits there, looking between the slats of the chair.
Paul walks over to observe our little criminal. "Laurel, you're in jail!" we both laugh.
"I in jail." Giggle, giggle. "Mommy, Daddy, I in jail." Giggle, giggle.
She plays a bit, sitting in different positions, getting up on her knees to look over the top of the chair, of course then standing. "No, Laurel. Sit in the chair," both Paul and I chime.
Quickly she sits and places her hands through all the openings between the chair's slats. Laurel again tries sitting different ways and directions. Then, in the blink of an eye, the novelty wears off, and she escapes.