So he doesn’t really mean “dude” when he says it, but that’s what it sounds like sometimes when he says “do.”
Jack Henry has definitely entered the independent stage. It’s partially making me nuts because I’m afraid he’s going to injure himself, partially making me sad because my baby is so old, and partially making me laugh because this little stinker means business.
I hear “SELF!” when trying to help him get out of the van, or “I do it!” when trying to buckle him up. He practically puts himself to bed every night. We hold him up so he can start his music, let him turn off the light, and then he has to close the door. He will allow you stay in the room while he closes the door so that you can tuck him in (and then he’s OK with you closing the door as you leave) but I think he prefers to just say goodnight at the door and go cover himself up. This is not to say that he isn’t affectionate or loving, because he really is. But he is eager to prove that he’s a big boy.
Over the weekend I caught him like this:
Like any good mother, I told him to be still, ran and got the camera, took a couple of pictures, and then told him to never try to do this again. For the record, he really wanted a cup of water. With ice (thank goodness our new fridge has an ice crusher).