Big Boy

Rob and I have just made the big switcheroo. From calling Andrew our "baby" to calling him our "big boy". It has been a difficult adjustment. But the time had come. After all, by November, he won't be the baby anymore. He will be the big brother. And he is two. Mr. Independent now.

So "big boy" it is. His is a "big boy" for eating all his breakfast/lunch/dinner; pee-peeing in the potty; getting dressed; brushing his teeth; cleaning up his toys; holding my hand instead of being held (this is bittersweet); washing his hands; getting in the car......you get the idea.

This morning we were playing outside on the front steps. Andrew has a fascination with lifting his big push truck up each of the steps. He can get it up the first step and then needs my help for the remaining steps. Not once has he complained about my help.

Until today.

When I tried to help him today, he clearly stated, "No mama. I big boy".

What??!! Where did that come from? As I was scooping my mouth up off the first step, Andrew made it all the way to the top of the steps with his truck. Because, apparently, he knows he is a big boy.

Getting the truck down the steps was another issue. After many failed attempts to get the truck down the steps by himself, I finally convinced him to let mama help.

How did I do this? I simply told him that, "Big boys let mama help them down the steps." Score one for mama. Of course, he will probably figure out this slick maneuver by the time he gets up from his afternoon nap, and I will continue trying to outsmart my two year old big boy.