Henny and Her Toys

Two weekends ago, my parents’ dogs were over at the Hinckley house, so I put Henny’s toy basket downstairs, on a table (downstairs, because that’s where the dogs were, and we were playing with them; on a table because I didn’t want the big dogs to go through the toys on their own and rip apart Henny’s stuffed animals). I forgot all about it until yesterday morning, when Henny started playing with a reusable shopping bag, because that was apparently the funnest thing available. Feeling bad, I immediately brought up her toy basket, and she dove in.

Now, I’m trying to clean before guests arrive, and every time I put all Henny’s toys back in the basket, she goes over and takes them back out again. I know I’m always going on about how much Henny has changed since she first came to me, but it’s always on my mind. It’s so nice that she A) knows how to play with toys now and B) has some that she thinks of as her own, even if that means I’m not allowed to tidy them away.