Wyatt has several excuses for not doing one particular thing or another, like putting his coat on by himself, or putting his shoes on, or grabbing his backpack on the way out the door to preschool, "but I'll do it when I'm a spy"... "if I was in college, I would do it"... "I'll do it when it's my birthday".
Lucky for us, his birthday is coming up next week.
My husband and I have held dearly onto his promise that being a 4 year old will be better than 3. Please, oh please be better than 3, because we can't handle another year of complaining about waistbands too tight, pants too short, the ever-present butt crack because he will *not wear* his pants tight or short, or will he wear a belt. Of course, he would wear sweatpants every. single. day if I'd let him.
I'm so tired of seeing his butt crack.
Out of nowhere, Wyatt decided last night, one week early, that it was time for him to wipe his own butt.
(cue the angels)
"That's what people do... people wipe their own butts. Mommy does, Daddy does, Henry does... from tonight on, I'm going to wipe my butt!"
He continues, "I can't wait to tell Dad that I'm going to wipe my own butt."
(Because, sure, he's the one he calls out when sitting on the perch of the toilet.)
I smile, nod and say a silent prayer that this actually means we are indeed one step closer to that magical age of 4, where he does everything that he's promised us that he would do.
And on top of that, I won't be seeing his butt with my face down in the toilet, him grabbing onto my leg for support.
Well, at least I won't be seeing his butt from that angle.