Posted on | February 13, 2012 | 5 Comments
We’ve entered into the era of semi-self -sufficiency.
It’s a terrifying world of juice spilled over the top of sippy cups, toothpaste squirted on everything but the brush, and crazy non-matching clothes. No matter what it is, my son is convinced he can do it by himself.
He wants to put the DVD in the player. He wants to turn on the television. He wants to run the bath water. He wants to cook dinner on the BIG stove.
He wants to drive my freaking car.
Seriously. Every morning we have the conversation that no, he’s not quite big enough to drive the car yet and every afternoon he climbs out of his carseat and into the front seat of the car and pretends to drive. It’s like my life is flashing forward 14 years AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.
I know I’m supposed to encourage independence. I know I’m supposed to smile and nod and let him open his own cereal bar and climb stairs without holding my hand. But people… he’s two. He’s two going on too old to need my help. I watch him doing these things and I remember when he was swaddled up in my arms and needed my help to raise his head or burp or even eat. I remember when I had to carry him in and out of bed; I remember when I had to wipe his face and hands after every meal. I remember when he needed me for everything.
And now he bounds out of bed by himself, carrying his books and toys from one room to another. He puts on his own shoes and brushes his own teeth. He knows how to work the freaking DVD player… when did all of that happen?
My baby is growing up, y’all… in mis-matched clothes, with semi-brushed teeth.
He’s growing up.
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