This morning my three year old climbed up onto my bed, looked me in the eye and with the maturity of a ten year old said, "I want to make my Chex, Mommy". I said "Ok, you can do that" and followed him to the kitchen. First thing: getting the stepstool. Even with a boost he couldn't reach his bowls in the cabinet. I resolved not to help him unless he specifically asked for help. After a few moments he opened the dishwasher. "Are these clean?" I nodded. He pulled a bowl out. Score 1 for Joey. "Need a spoon." He pulled one out of the dishwasher. I was impressed.
He opened the Chex and tried to pull the bag out. I shook my head. He paused for a moment and lifted the box. The lightbulb that turned on in his mind was tangible. He poured the Chex. Score 2 for Joey. He turned and opened the fridge, no small feat for little hands. He reached for an unopened gallon of milk. "Is that one open?" I asked. He shook his head and reached for the one that was slightly less than half full. Grunting he put it on the counter next to his bowl. He unscrewed the cap with considerable skill for someone who'd never touched a jug of milk. I braced my hand under the jug while he poured. He put the cap right back on and put it into the fridge.
Here was the hard part--getting the bowl to the table without spilling. I helped him position his fingers and he was off. Nary a drop was spilled until he set it on the table a little less carefully than he could have. "Mommy, I need a napkin". I raised an eyebrow. He trotted off to the kitchen and picked up 2 pieces of stray Chex off the counter while he was in there, grabbed a towel and wiped off the table. He sat down to eat with a grin on his face while I dabbed a tear from the corner of my eye.
And that's our inspirational story for today.
Journal Entry From Dec. 20th, 2013 (a Joey story)