Kalaidoscope Evening

This evening, we decided to go for a walk. I told the girls to put their shoes and socks on. This was immediately met on J's side with protests that her room was dark (thus she cannot go in alone) and her sock drawer was too hard to open. After resolving these issues, I started cleaning off the dinner table, hoping against hope that my instructions were being followed and two small girls would soon be ready for a walk. In the distance, I vaguely heard A say from the living room that she couldn't find something. I chose not to question what she was looking for.
Five minutes later, Joe was already outside with A2 in the stroller, J was asking me to put on her shoes (which she still insists she cannot do herself), and A was victoriously declaring that she had done it herself without help and therefore could get a sticker (an incentive for them to dress independently).
I looked down at her feet. On one foot, was a sock (neatly positioned with the heel in the proper place) and a shoe (the correct one, for a change). The other foot was completely bare. Big smile: "I'm ready! I did it by myself! I get a sticker!"
At this point, the realization hit home that the thing she could not find was her other sock. I suppose she figured she had done the best she could and since the other sock was nowhere to be found, she could go without it. She was perfectly ready to walk out the door with only one foot shod.
Deetle, deetle, dumplin', my daughter A.
As we were ready to leave, Joe decided to have some fun with the girls. He cleverly hid the garage door opener in his pocket and made impressive Luke Skywalker moves that "made" the garage door close, stop, open, stop, and finally close all the way. The girls were duly impressed. When we got home, he went through the same rigmarole to open the door. When he was done, A asked if she could do it. Trying to help him out, I demonstrated, acting as if I was trying to do it, and saying "See? I can't do it either. Only Papi can do that."
She looked up and said, "When you get bigger maybe you can do it." God forbid.
Upon putting A2 to bed, I was pleasantly surprised at the results of an experiment. I said several names in the same tone of voice, and he ignored them all, until I said his. Then he looked at me. I tried this several times with the same result. He obviously recognizes his name. Unfortunately, he is somewhat confused. He also responds to A's name.