Today, everyone was upstairs cleaning or pretending to clean: Michelle was vacuuming; I was putting sheets on the kids’ beds; Ryan and Alyssa were chasing each other and the dogs through the house. On the whole, a pretty ordinary scene for our crazy house.
At some point, I realized that Ryan had disappeared, so I wandered downstairs to investigate. I found Ryan sitting in his chair at the table, with a glass (real glass) full of chocolate milk.
Chocolate milk that he did not have when we went upstairs.
The following conversation ensued:
Me: “Ryan, what are you doing?”
Ryan: “Drinking chocolate milk.”
Me: “I see that. Whose glass is that?”
Ryan: “Mommy’s.”
Me: “Did it have chocolate milk in it?”
Ryan: “No…! It had regular milk.”
Me: “Where did you get the chocolate?”
Ryan: “Over here.”
He hops down out of his chair, walks over to the cabinet, and takes out the powdered Nesquik we have in there.
Me: “I see. How did you put it in the milk?”
Ryan: “With a spoon.”
Me: “From where?”
He looks at me as if to say “are you really this thick?”, but then he walks over to the silverware drawer and opens it up.
Ryan: “From here.”
Me: “Well, where is it now?”
A pause. Ryan closes the silverware drawer.
Ryan: “In here.”
He motions at the dishwasher with his thumb.
My three-year-old son had mixed himself a glass of chocolate milk without spilling anything, without making a mess, without putting too much powder in, and has even gone so far as to clean up after himself. If he had been left to his own devices for even a minute longer, I wouldn’t have known that he’d even done it.
My kids: they never cease to amaze me.
Side note: When I related this story to Michelle, I used the word ‘toddle’ when I explained how Ryan moved from one place to another. Michelle pointed out that Ryan does not ‘toddle’ anywhere any more. Which is true. He’s a big guy, and I keep forgetting that.