Vincent is 5 now, and it is becoming even more clear that he is a Mini-Me of Luis. Give him a real job to do, and he is happy. One day, he tried to pay me for letting him hang up laundry. I hadn't realized he was doing that; I had been hanging it until I went inside to get a fussy, woken-up-from-his-nap Simon. Ten minutes later, Vincent swaggered in, handed me two quarters, informed me that the laundry was all up and thanked me for letting him hang it.

So, life is interesting with him around.

Today I was carrying water softener salt from the van into the house and the basement. I carried the first bag down, dumped it into the big storage thingamabobee and went back outside. There was Vincent walking down the driveway with the other bag of a salt on a dolly. The bags weigh fifty pounds. Fifty. Vincent weighs forty pounds, for reference. In the amount of time it took me to walk to the basement and dump the first bag of salt, he had gotten out the handcart, taken it to the back of the van, maneuvered the bag onto the cart and rolled it up the driveway.

I let him take it the rest of the way to the back door, including up the little hill. He did it.

Help me when this boy hits puberty. I just know the there will be an Unfortunate Incident involving a Sawzall at some point in his teenage years.