Something not unlike free will is starting to happen up in here and I'll admit that I'm less than thrilled about it.
Used to be that Dash had to rely completely on us to accommodate his desires. He could wail and squirm and make himself generally unpleasant until he got what he wanted, but we always had the last word. These days, not so much.
It started when he learned to crawl, but didn't really come to a head until he was able to stand. The standing, although hampered by the fact that he had to be holding on to something to keep from tipping over, gave him greater access to forbidden things like Mommy's wine and the wipes container (which he empties with great glee about four times a day.)
One of Dash's favorite things to do since learning to stand is to help me empty the dishwasher. He likes to pull spoons and forks out of the utensil basket and try to gouge his eyes out with them. I have always been able to keep him from completely blinding himself, however, by pulling the top rack out to limit his access to the bottom. This morning he figured out that he could just push it back in and, voila, an embarrassment of forks. I know this story is less than astonishing, but I cannot express how completely unprepared I was to see him puzzle out that top rack thing. I just stood there like a moron, pulling the top rack out and watching impotently as he pushed it back in. We must have done it 30 times before it finally occurred to me to empty the goddamn utensil basket.
The final straw, though, happened a few minutes later when I glanced up from the morning paper to see him standing completely unassisted, drinking his bottle like a teensy wino in footie pajamas. I'm pretty sure he had no idea he had done it because he hasn't tried to do it again. But he's got the skill, and soon he'll be walking and that, my friends, will be the end of Dash's babyhood.
I am not prepared. Not one bit.