Choo-choo and I were eating breakfast one morning. He was shaking the open container of cinnamon into his cereal bowl. He added more and more and more.
“You don’t need that much,” I told him, but he insisted.
I could only imagine how cinnamon-y his rice squares were. Despite my surprise at his rather spiced up breakfast, I knew it was good for him. Not only in the physical sense, but also in that he is learning to make his own choices. My son is developing his voice, owning his independence.
He has a deep love of cheese as well, demonstrated by the mounds of it he dumps onto his dinner plates. Sometimes, he pours out half the bottle of grated Parm in one sitting. Diesel isn’t too happy about this one, but it actually doesn’t bother me anymore. I am learning to let this not be an annoyance and see instead how proud Choo-choo is of himself for not needing help.
This makes me a proud momma, too.