Well, Stella never learned how to poop in the toilet (out of sheer lack of desire, I'm convinced), but she can now open the door using the door handle.

Every morning Stella wakes us up around 5:30 for breakfast. I resist; Sam usually relents. I tell him not to do it. It will only reward her waking us up way too early. Ignoring her attention-getting activities (toying with something on the bureau, scratching the box spring to our mattress into a shredded mess, playing with the brass curtain rings) should only result in her being put out of the bedroom and closing the door.

This morning, it did. Yea Sam. Then, in the semi-far reaches of my consciousness, I heard scratching. I recognized it as Stella doing something but never identified it clearly. Then, I (we) hear the jostle of the door handle (the apartment was designed with handicapped-ready door handles rather than knobs. Do they make knobs anymore?). The door opens and Stella and Maggie saunter into the bedroom. Sam announced from a dead sleep, "Hey! Stella opened the door! YEA Stella." He's a big fan.