Dear Son is getting pretty independent in his three-year-old potty habits. It's all good so long as he aims well (I got him trained pretty good now to point that thing down and not to spray the wall behind the toilet). For whatever reason, our home was built with quite tall commodes that don't slack at all in the overall bowl size, either. Son has to hang on for dear life to keep from falling in.
Despite his independence, he still sometimes needs a little help, and he likes me to hang out in the general vicinity in case of such need. Last week I was in the master bathroom getting ready to put on my make up for work when he hurried in and put himself on the tall throne. He sat there with his feet dangling and sweetly said, "Mommy, you are pretty!" I turned to look at him and and repeated what he said to be sure I heard him right, "You think I'm pretty?" "Yeah," he said. "You are pretty when you put that makeup on your eyes." "Oh!" I said. "You think I'm pretty when I put my make up on!?" I tried hard not to stress the part about the makeup and not to sound disappointed in the qualification he added to his compliment. "Yeah," he said. "AND you are pretty without your makeup!" he added hopefully.
The little guy has already mastered the art of putting his foot in his mouth and back peddling quickly.