It starts early

I love my husband. (Let me just start with that.) But there are days that he drives me crazy. You know, the little things that he can't seem to do for himself--we all know what I'm talking about. I often curse his mom (silently, of course) for babying him too much. Turns out it may not be her fault after all. It just may be an innate behavior, letting the ladies take on the lion's share of the work.

Allow me to illustrate. As we are leaving school the other day, I have all three in tow. I am carrying the newest in the infant seat. I pick up the oldest, who has a lunchbox, backpack, coat and an assortment of papers and art projects for me to peruse at my leisure (ha!). Ditto for the little girl. So I am holding my son's papers, the keys, my pick-up pass and the infant seat. He begins to insist that I take something for him: the lunchbox, the backpack, the coat, "anything," to use his word. I calmly explain that my hands are too full to accommodate any more of his crap, so he'll have to be a big boy and carry it all himself. I continue the trek to the van, happy that he is complying. I reach the van without any children at my side, and as I turn around, I see why. Owen is encouraging Ella, saying "Good job, sissy!" as she is carrying her lunchbox over one arm (much like a large purse), his lunchbox in that hand, his coat and hers slung over the other arm, and in that hand, his backpack, so large that it is dragging on the ground. If you're keeping track, that leaves Owen with NOTHING in his arms. And Ella complains not, just continues to trip along on her way to the car, happy to be helping her brother. And so it begins...