Getting his own juice

My wee baby son, who not so long ago was barely learning to talk
and then stepping down stairs, and learning to do lots of other big-boy things, is now in front of the fridge he opened, pouring his own apple juice and not. even. spilling. it.

Wait, hang on... he remembered to close the fridge door when he was done.

Good thing that as I finished that paragraph he also asked me urgently to help him, "I can't do 'Menu,' Mama! Can't do 'Menu!'" (on the DVD remote). Whew, he still needs me. :)

Little dude had a fever yesterday and was just so pathetic. Laying down on the couch of his own free will? What is that? Covered with a blanket, no less. He did that TWICE. Thank goodness they haven't taken Children's Tylenol off the shelves yet, though I'm sure that's coming. My friend who was born on a farm in the fifties reminds me that his mom gave him a spoonful of turpentine when his stomach hurt. Y'know, to EASE the pain. HA! I am sure we'll have to revert to that in this next uber-regulated, nothing's-safe-to-sell day and age. It'll be like the bomb hit or something and we have to start over from scratch.

But I digress.

So he's home with me today and we're trying to keep it low-key, but he obviously feels
fine now. We were just outside playing -- kicking the soccer ball. He's pretty darn good -- can stop it when it's coming to him, and kick it back in a fairly straight line. He's also being brave: willing to go retrieve the soccer ball when it rolls near the yard with three (fenced-in) big, barky labs. He totally would NOT have done that a year ago. He would have cried 'til I did it for him. We play board games like Parker Brothers is going out of style: Sorry, Disney Candyland (at least twice a day each), and sometimes Leapfrog Bingo and Caribou. He knows that an Eleven in Sorry means he can either move eleven spaces or switch with an opponent. (He doesn't always choose the most strategic of the two, but HEY.) He goes to the bathroom all by himself -- moves the stepstool under the light switch to turn the light on himself, then scoots it back to the potty. He even sometimes washes his hands if I shout at him a little. He tolerates one or two spicier foods. He fork-cuts his own pieces into smaller bites, if they're too big. He'll sit across from me at the table and color with markers for a span of ten or fifteen minutes.

He's still not brushing his own teeth so DH or I do it, which is getting to be a pain. He's still not over making a giant mess at mealtime by smearing something on his vinyl placemat. He's still employing the whine tactic a lot when he thinks he's not going to get his way. He still wants me to lie down with him as he falls asleep.

But as a general rule, the kid is actually growing up, right in front of my very eyes. I'm not going to know what to do when a new infant shows up next to him, and reinforces this fact by her very presence.

My baby.