Ever since my children were born, I’ve only had pre-schoolers. (I know it sounds purely logical, but it’s actually much deeper than that.) This means that I haven’t yet experienced the independence of older children, and in fact, deep down I probably felt it was a myth —something you hear about but never actually happens to you. Instead, you’re left wondering if you’re longing for an impossibility.

Anyway, very recently I noticed a page turning in our lives. Our little children were growing up. They can now get their own breakfasts, with Aisha preparing Calista’s cereal.

Aisha, 5yo, April 2010
The girls use their hands to crumble the dry wheat biscuits. The older two girls each eat three biscuits, and Cali eats two.

We’ve moved the cereal down from a very high cupboard to one accessible by the girls. Sure, it’s a bit messier than when I do it, but hey, I’m not likely to climb out of bed just to prevent a few crumbs on the kitchen counter!

Now each evening, I decant some milk into a more manageable container (the three-litre bottle was just too heavy for the girls to manage). One day, David heard that Aisha had poured too much milk into her bowl, so she tried to tip it back into the bottle and made a mess. But she cleaned the mess up. (She’s such a good girl!)

Aisha, 5yo, April 2010
Aisha carefully pours the milk for Calista's breakfast.

So this means we can sleep in (after I feed Dell)! If it gets this good with a five-year-old, what can I train them to do by the time they’re twelve?!