(Here she's figured out she can open and close the garage door.)
She chants, "mommy's car, mommy's car, mommy's car," over and over, like some sort of protest, until she gets what she wants. And on this rainy day with the sniffles, she was in there twice with me and at least once with Dad, so I guess the protesting works. Honestly, if I could I'd pull my car up next to the screen doors and use it as a giant playpen (now that Rich has stowed my ashtray full of coins under the passenger seat).
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