Independence
“Gabe do it.” he says, referring to himself in the third person. Actually, it sounds a little more like “Abe oo it.”
I know what he means.
What he really means is “Dad, I intend to lift all 8.24 pounds of this nearly full gallon of milk. I will maneuver it expertly over my cup, and then pour myself just exactly the amount of milk that I feel that I can drink during this meal. I feel that this milk is necessary in addition to the milk which you totally just poured for me, don’t you even think about arguing with me about it.”
A noble goal indeed.
Gabe grabs the handle of the plastic milk container. ”Heavy.” he states, strain apparent in his voice even before he attempts to lift.
Giving up on the lift, Gabe instead favors the tip. With all his might he pushes; the milk slowly leansto one side, threatening to pour its delicious contents in, on, and near Gabe’s cup.
Fortunately, I know this routine. I gently support the milk from the bottom, steering clear of the handle, which it is forbidden for me to touch. I guide the container along its path, gently lifting only if absolutely necessary. I allow just a few drops of milk to pour out before slowly reducing my support. The milk returns to its upright state and Gabe returns the cap.
I love that he is becoming more independent.
But sometimes it’s a lot of work.
