Griffin is entirely too independent for my tastes. He's taken his cup from the bedroom and gotten the chocolate milk out of the refrigerator and poured himself o cup of it at the table, taking care to screw the top back onto his cup

"I do it myself." he beams, uncertain whether I'm going to be angry or proud. I am simultaneously disquieted and proud of this newfoundland independence. There's absolutely no need for him to have anymore chocolate milk today, but what can I do?

"Good job, buddy." I say.