My anklebiter won’t cook breakfast for himself. At his age, he’s perfectly capable of making a piece of toast but will wait hours (if necessary) until someone gets up and does it for him. It really gets under my skin since I don’t plan on being a short order cook my whole life.
Last night I spent some time and coached him on giving it a go and making his own toast this morning. I gave him all the self esteem building I could in honour of (what I hoped would be) his new achievements. Then I put him to bed and crossed my fingers.
Today I got up and there was evidence of toast making having happened! YES! (I showed an inordinate amount of excitement given the achievement, but then isn’t that what parenting is?)
“Don’t you feel like you can conquer the world now?” I said, “Don’t you wonder what other achievements you are going to accomplish today?” “Don’t you just feel invincible?”
“No,” he said, not even looking up at me as I spoke. “I just feel like I made some toast.”
And that was that.