Tonight we spent the evening with some friends who have a little boy a couple months older than Violet. At one point, he was blowing across the room at the adults to watch our reactions as we fell back in the face of such cyclonic terror. Each person was more dramatic than the last, until he got to Violet. While this had been going on, Violet had proceeded to steal his sippy cup and now stood ambivalently in the direct path of the wind. He blew, and she look back with boredom. In great surprise, he blew again, harder. Nothing. A step forward. Again with the fierce cyclonic terror. Again with the no response. So much for toddlers having an active imagination.