I'm not sure whether to cry or rejoice, but my oldest child is becoming more and more independent. I always knew that my goal for raising my children was for them to become independent adults, but it's the moments when you notice that they are achieving these things that make your heart leap.
Tonight, he asked for a glass of milk. "Mom, I can get it myself." But unlike a two year old who claims to do everything "myself", he actually could. And then I complimented him on his growing independence - he can fix his own breakfast and the other day he made himself a sandwich. Which, he reminded me, involved a successful use of the toaster.
He said he would work on mastering the microwave next. Shoot, that's already more kitchen appliances than most grown men. If I can teach him to boil water, he'll be the most popular kid in college. "Dude [I'm sure that will be an old-fashioned term by then. We'll replace it in ten years with the cooler version] -- you can make ramen AND grilled cheese. Dude, wanna be my roommate?" And you know the girls will swoon. Ahem, I might be ahead of myself. Excuse me, back to the mastering of kitchen appliances.
He's been mostly taking care of his own hygiene now for the better part of a year. Until he starts to smell bad, then we'll revisit that one. And now eating. If only I could get him to do homework without a gentle nudge. Or two. We'll worry about that in the fall, I suppose, for now, I will just revel in his ability to satisfy his own hunger (and when he's feeling generous, possibly the hunger of his siblings) while I lie leisurely in bed resting my pretty little head. Sounds lovely, doesn't it?
A girl can dream.