The South Park-esqeue visions that put in my head caught me between laughing or worrying that my daughter is nuts, so instead I called my mom and told her what Laurel had just done. She laughed, so I guess it's kosher for toddlers to do that. I'm relieved.
I finished two cross-stitch Pooh ornaments that Chuck stitched and sent to me for finishing. Laurel saw the first one I finished (with Pooh on it) and promptly identified it as "POOH!"... I thought it was clever, but she said the same thing about the second one (which was of Eeyore) and about a Tigger toy she presented me with. At least she knows that they're all in the Pooh stories, which we read bits of on a regular basis. (We also watch The New Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh on Disney, but not as much since they moved its time slot so it conflicts with Trading Spaces.)
In addition to her ease with cabinet locks (unlike some of us in my parents' house), she now knows how to make the electric screwdriver go. David set it down in her reach after I got a shoelace caught in the vacuum (don't ask, the shoe it was attached to was clearly visible in the hallway but I wasn't looking in its direction at the time) and he helped me open the vacuum. He pretended to go after her bellybutton with it, then set it down. Lala picked it up, played with it a moment before pushing on the rocker switch that controls its direction and poked him in the side with it.
As long as she doesn't also take after me and put a pair of scissors in an outlet after prying the safety cap off, I think we're okay.