My Little Helper

Ryker's almost two, and that places him firmly in the Uber-Helper stage. He wants to help with everything.

He wants to carry his own lunch bag into daycare. Some days he carries Jack's too. He looks like a pigeon-toed, beer-bellied, drunk construction worker shuffling onto the job site.

Yesterday he helped me shop at the Mall of America. He picked out his new shoes for Beth's wedding, and Jack's new shoes for the trip. He carried the package of my new Spanx around Bloomingdale's for me. (Those of you that haven't heard of Spanx are either men or teeny tiny women. Those of you that HAVE heard of them should wish me luck breathing.) Finally, he helped me pick out a bra. He helped by sitting in his stroller in the dressing room staring at me in awe as I undressed in pseudo-public, nodding slightly as I tried them on, then laughing hysterically at the pair that was obviously too big. (Note to self: Teach Ryk the dos and don'ts of shopping with women.)

Today he helped me fold the children's laundry. He sat on his tiny chair in front of me, grabbing pieces of clothing out of the basket, shaking them out, then handing them to me and saying who they belonged to. In his estimation almost everything was "Joshun's" although any blankets were his, and the 3T pajama pants apparently were mine.

I'll rent him out to the highest bidder.