Jack came into my room yesterday morning and crawled into bed. He told me he wanted milk. I rolled over and my eyes rolled back into my head and I went back to sleep. I probably grunted at him or snorted or growled or made some other guttural noise appropriate for 5:30am. You can get away with a lot of noises at 5:30 that just aren't appropriate at other times of day. I am pretty sure first thing in the morning I look like a sleep deprived Medusa. I often warn people in my house to not really attempt communication until I am at least one coffee deep into the day. Its just wise. You've been warned. So while I registered on some level that there was a mini human in my bed asking me for something, I didn't/couldn't muster up the energy to even respond, let alone get out of bed and provide said mini human with milk. Jack took matters into his own hands and scuttled out of bed and padded down the hallway, apparently down the stairs, and then back upstairs where he returned to our bed. He softly slurped away on what I can only imagine was a sippy cup. When I regained consciousness and decided that I should probably greet the day I found this at the bottom of our bed.
Jack had procured not only a sippy cup but what he deemed to be an appropriate refill. Now, I don't know about you, but I love to start my day with a nice big frothy cup of fat free half and half. It really adds that extra zing to my step! I have to selfishly admit that my wheels are turning at a truly alarming rate cooking up some wild ideas for what I can teach Jack to do while I am still in bed. What's next? Brioche? Espresso? I admire your step towards self sufficiency, my dear boy. Congrats! You are growing up. Now I have to go cry into my fat free half and half because you are all old and independent.