Dumpster Diving

You can now add that skill set to my resumé.

We have a flip-top trash can in the kitchen that is pretty tall -- about 26" in height. If he steps on the pedal just right, Kael can flip the lid open and toss in trash. Sometimes he gets it opened just a crack before it gets stuck because his foot is positioned wrong, so he'll have to use his hands to manually open the lid the rest of the way.

Malia is fascinated with the trash can -- but she couldn't open it so she had to satisfy her curiosity by simply banging on the sides. A couple of months ago, she managed to pry open the lid but couldn't get it open more than an inch or so. Just enough to catch her fingers and trap her. But she never cried -- she just made these "hughh, hughh!" sounds, letting me know that she was trapped. Again.

Eventually that inch gap got wider and wider, and she got taller and taller to where her whole hand would get trapped. And she's aware that the trash can is where we put stuff.

Now she's tall enough to be able to open the lid wide enough to actually throw things in there. Like:
Her sippy cups.
Kael's Matchbox cars.
My tupperware containers.
Mail.
Various utensils.
The phone.
And the topping on the cake: Kael's precious insects.

You can imagine Kael's reaction to her latest ploy to torment him. I can usually guess what happens next when I see her doing her best to run to the trash can with her hands clutched tight to her chest, and Kael screaming in fury behind her.

And Kael being Kael, I have go dumpster diving to fish the contraband toy out of the can, thoroughly wash it (with soap) and then dry it with a towel before he deems it clean enough to play with.

All the while Malia is watching wide-eyed... just waiting, like a hunter stalking her prey, for the perfect opportunity to snatch it again.