A couple of weeks ago I had the not so bright idea of letting Oliver help me to make his lunch (beans on toast). Thinking I was being all mumsy I allowed him to put the beans in the microwave and showed him how to put toast in the toaster. I then helped him to butter the toast, hand over hand. This little activity has caused me nothing but grief since it occurred and I appear to have triggered Oliver's desire for independence to ridiculous levels.
One day when I was at work, Oliver's dad nipped upstairs to quickly get dressed. When he came back down, Oliver (with the help of a stool) had managed to reach the kitchen work tops and was in the middle of making himself some toast.
The following day he took it to the next level and was discovered making beans on toast.
A few days later whilst Oliver was watching TV in the lounge (or so I thought), I decided to tidy up his playroom (for the 152nd time that day.) all of a sudden I heard a mans voice in the lounge. I ran in to see that Oliver had once again made use of the trusty old stool and had used it to reach the front door handle, taking it upon himself to answer the door to a complete stranger!
The final straw was Wednesday when Oliver went upstairs to use the toilet. Thinking that he'd been a couple of minutes and probably needed assistance I went up to find that he was in the process of running himself a bath and had helped himself to one of my bath bombs.
He starts school in September. I was under the impression that this meant I could leave him alone in a room for a few minutes without him putting himself in great peril!
I was wrong.