Do You Hear What I Hear?

I've been drilling Eden about listening.
Half the time, she has no idea what I've just said to her.  She'll ask a question.  I'll answer her.  She'll ask the question again.  Sometimes, I'll just tell her again (although that's getting more rare as I get more tired of this process). Sometimes, I'll ask her what I just said and she'll sheepishly tell me.  So then I ask her why she feels the need to ask a question she clearly knows the answer to.  I just get a look.  Sometimes, I'll ask her what I just said and she has no idea.  That's where the listening lecture begins.

Like this morning, for example.

I told her she had to wait until Arielle was done with her milk before I gave her breakfast.  I could tell she was very anxious because she kept hovering around Arielle in the highchair and giving me updates on her progress.
She let me know Arielle was all done and I told her she still needed to wait because I was going out of the room to do something and would be right back.  Next thing I hear is her saying, "All done Arielle."  I knew that meant she was taking her bottle away.  I quickly walked back in to stop her, told her to give back the bottle and asked her what I had just said before I waked out.
No answer.

"I'll tell you what I said, Eden.  I told you to WAIT for me to come back.  I didn't tell you to take Arielle's bottle away."

Fast forward 10 minutes later in the bathroom.

Eden asks me if she can look at herself in the mirror on the back of the door.  I say, "Sure you can.  Just push the door to where you can see the mirror."
She puts her hands behind her back and looks at me, asking the question again with her eyes.  Don't you think she wasn't.  I have a clear window to her brain and almost everything that goes through it.  It's Mom telepathy.

"Eden, can you tell me what I just said to you?"

"Don't push the door."

sigh. See what I mean?