Breakfast Time

The morning started out innocently enough. He got dressed for school. He said good morning to his rocking horse. He gave Winston and Wrigley a hug and a kiss. He charged into the kitchen for breakfast. And then it happened...

He pointed to the kitchen stool, said "Big boy chair" and with that made his declaration that he was no longer a baby that needed to sit in a high chair. This was not his first time sitting on the stool, but this was his first time to refuse the high chair.

I was ok with that at first. After all, he understands his limits and isn't too squirmy when sitting on the big boy chair. I know he is growing up fast and there are certain milestones that he is going to reach whether I like it or not (and let's face it, putting the big ol' high chair in storage for awhile is not the worst thing in the world). I even tried to be the bigger person by allowing himself to sit in the big boy chair relatively unsupervised while I tended to various tasks around the house.

However, when I returned to the kitchen from folding some laundry, I was unprepared for what I would discover. Riley, quietly sitting in the big boy chair blissfully content reading the newspaper (ok, it was a magazine - we are too cheap to have the newspaper delivered to our house, but still...) and eating his toast. I thought about pouring him a cup of coffee.

When did he turn 25?