I used to worry when you were loud. Now I worry when you're quiet.

Casey was out of town until Saturday morning.  So Leah and I reverted back to our summertime routine: with no one else to watch her, I turned on Sesame Street, got out her toys and hopped in the shower. 

Typically, I don't worry about her, although I do tend to rush through my showers and sometimes can't remember if I washed the conditioner out of my hair.  But really, the outlets are covered, there's a gate at the top of the stairs, the cabinets are childproofed, and generally I feel pretty confident that she's at an age where she can't do too much damage in a matter of 15 minutes.

Besides that, she always comes into the bathroom to check in on me, and I hear her babbling away to herself and her toys, so I always know she's okay.

So when I was washing the shampoo out of my hair and hadn't heard a peep from her, I got a little worried.  I called her name, expecting her to come running.

No answer.

I tried again.  Still no answer.

Edging a bit closer to panic, I stuck my head out of the shower. 

Which is when I saw what she'd been up to the whole time:

It seems Casey has a hidden stash that a) I didn't know about and b) was somewhere Leah was able to find. 

No wonder she was so quiet!  She wasn't too pleased when I got out and had to lay a finger on her Butterfinger...