Most of the time we agree on the level of needed help (but not the steak knife). However, the last few weeks I've been trying to get him to dress himself. Sure, it takes coordination, but that's a pretty basic task. The kid can drive a motorcycle but can't pull his pants up. So today after a trip to the bathroom I told him he could redress himself. He cried and pouted ("I don know hoooow"). But we had nowhere to go and I had no pressing matters upon me so I held my figurative ground.
I walked out.
I told him he could do it. He knew how. He understands the mechanics of underwear and shorts. He just didn't think he could and so he didn't. do it. After a few minutes of mild crying, my half-naked two-year-old came down the stairs, undies in hand, very pathetically asking for help. I almost caved. But being the cruel, hard-hearted parent that I am, I said no and told him yet again that he could do it.
He harrumphed and plopped his naked butt onto my white rug (at least he's a decent wiper). Berto, lying on the floor next to him, laughed with the excitement that comes with the arrival of an older brother and immediately Thomas' attitude changed. He had a baby brother to impress.
He very carefully and deliberately stuck one foot through the waistband and into a leg hole. Then the second foot slid into place. As soon as he realized he had two feet in two holes -- a big step for this kid-- his face lit up with pride. He started giggling and quickly stood up to pull his "hehtotter underair" (that's helicopter underwear) all the way up. And he did it. It took a little wiggling and a couple of hops, but he got that underwear all the way up! There were high fives and hugs and a very wet kiss on Berto's nose. He was so proud of himself. He soon ran back up the stairs, grabbed his shorts and put them on in the same manner.
I didn't have the heart to tell him his underwear was inside out.
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