After dinner I took a couple of minutes to write an email. I could hear her playing happily, tromping back and forth on her little adventures. She said something at my elbow, so I looked down and saw that she had a serving spoon full of sour cream from dinner that she had apparently gotten out of the s.c. container on the counter. She had it all around her mouth, down her front and in a kind of plopped trail from the kitchen. Oh, silly girl. I took the spoon back to the kitchen, but couldn't find the sour cream tub. I sent my email, then called her to come for a bath. I found her in the living room, where she had apparently taken the tub, dipped both hands in and started to smear the sour cream on my little stool. I think she will enjoy finger-painting at an early age!