The Boy said thank you for the first time this morning.
Granted, it came out, "Tank," around a mouthful of toast he had begged off his daddyman's plate, but still. This is cause for celebration. This is the culmination of months of my saying after giving him anything or watching anyone else give him anything, "Say thank you!" Or sometimes simply, "Thank you!" in my most chipper voice, my sorority girl voice. I feel like I have accomplished something.
My child might be dirty and stinky sometimes. He might throw a tantrum every now and again. He might decide, much to my displeasure, that 5 a.m. is the right time to get up.
But, by god, he says please and thank you. That's something, right?