Mr. Independent
Lately Henry has become Mr. Independent. He no longer wants assistance with anything. Before, he would want a finger to hold onto while stepping down stairs. Now he'd rather get down on his knees, turn himself over so he's sitting, then scoot forward and down, one step at a time. It's a much more time- and labor-intensive way to go about it, but in the end he can say it was all him, and that's the point. It took us a while to catch on that Dave and I were obsolete as far as Henry was concerned. We carried on with the (now) old-school way of doing things, blithely offering assistance in little ways: trying to hold on to his hands while going down the tiniest step, handing him his water bottle from the top of the counter, lifting him up onto chairs when it seemed like he needed a little push up, each time wondering why by the time we'd helped him get to where he obviously wanted to be he was a puddle of tears. Once we had the minor epiphany that he wanted to do everything himself, life became a lot easier for everyone.
Except, Henry's growing up awfully fast. Which, I know, is what kid's are supposed to do, except, really? This fast? I hardly ever get to sneak a snuggle in anymore because he's always either running or, if I do luck out and catch him, pushing away.
I think maybe he sensed we were feeling a little mothballed because lately, before naptime and bedtime, Henry has insisted on crashing out on either Dave or myself in the capt's chair in his room. This generally occurs right after we finish a book, and right before he goes into his crib. It doesn't last very long, maybe five minutes, just long enough for him to chill out and relax, but not long enough for him to go to sleep.
It's the most glorious five minutes of the day.