A week or so ago, my wife and I took BG to the park. There was a little boy there who was probably five or six, and our son was fascinated with him. We told him that the boy was a big boy, and BG was eager to repeat the term. He has heard it before, but to put a picture to it really seemed to make him fascinated with becoming a big boy himself.
Our son is not far from that, I suppose. He’s just over two months away from turning two. He’s talking up a storm, even putting phrases together now. He asks me what I’m doing, which sounds something like, “Wha-doing?” and just this week, he started calling me “Mommy.” Oh, how I love hearing that.
It seems that now that we’re settled in this house, now that BG is healthy (for the moment), he’s beginning to really blossom. His development is exploding in nearly every area, and it’s bowling us over on a daily basis.
Yesterday, when we woke up, our son spotted his high chair against a wall in our dining room.
We had had some friends over for dinner and didn’t feel his high chair needed to remain at the table. BG was so intrigued with his chair in a different location than its usual spot at the table. I thought he was going to be upset, but I found him grinning. A bit later, he asked for some yogurt. He pulled out a little red patio chair we got for him some time back, pulled it up to one of the dining room chairs, gathered himself a bowl and spoon, which he placed on the dining room chair, and sat on his chair awaiting his yogurt. Amused, we gave him his yogurt, and he sat there, eating it, so very pleased.
But then something very interesting happened. He looked over at his high chair and waved. “Bye!” he said, and then he repeated, “Bye, high chair!” He looked at J and I, pointed at the high chair, and said, “Away!”
“Do you want us to take your high chair away? Do you want to want to sit at your own table like a big boy?” J asked.
“Away, high chair! Bye-bye! Big boy!” Was his reply as he went over to the high chair and started to move it.
My wife and I just stared at each other, our eyes welling up a bit because, holy crap, our kid was telling us he was ready to move on, ready to grow up a little, ready to shed yet another of the trappings of babyhood. We have kept the high chair for now; the boy still needs to learn how to sit still, and he seems to eat dinner best when he sits in it, but he’s telling us he is ready for more freedom and responsibility. How can we argue with that?