Austin said that while he was doing something with Leila, Gage informed him that he had choked (Gage word for 'puked'). He quickly followed that statement with a matter-of-fact version of 'don't worry dad, it's all in the trash can.' (Keep in mind, whenever I'm around the puke always lands somewhere on the floor... usually in multiple somewheres.)
Upon investigation, his 'choke' absolutely was in the trash can... and leading from the trash can was a trail of his choke that clearly began on the kitchen floor. Austin began to clean everything up when Gage eagerly and proudly told Austin that he 'just got his own bowl.... see?' And, Gage opened a cupboard door. Deputy Austin thus concluded that the choke that began on the kitchen floor finished in the cupboard... yet, to Gage's credit, in a bowl... that he first had to remove a colander from. Then, Sir Independent Gage proceeded to take his bowl to the trash can to dump it... even if he did leave a bit of a trail.
And while I do realize I'm writing a story about vomit, this was a pleasantly surprising tale of independence and care. Perhaps even a bit of proof that my job as a mother has some success stories to it--which couldn't have come on a better day since the beginning of the day saw me dragging Gage, literally, to the car. He also had to literally be pulled off my leg so I could leave the babysitter's house and make it to my first class of 20 new faces. It is a bit of an understatement to say that the start of the semester was a bit rough. Who knew my 3-year old would have separation anxiety??
On the other hand, it's refreshing to know that everyone can pick up the slack when I'm not around. I may start volunteering to be gone in the evenings more often if it helps to condition some independence--even independence in handling pukes. : ) Simply put, I'm just quite proud of my family.
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