The Itch

Yesterday, I caught Max rubbing his back up and down on the door frame just like you'd expect to see a bear doing in the wild (not a far stretch from this home, I admit). When I asked him what, exactly, he was doing, he told me, "I have an itch on me." I offered him a little help, and just like an adult he said, "Down. No, up. Up some more. Now down." When it became apparent that I was not going to locate the right spot, Max proceeded to the bathroom where he opened the drawer, pulled out a hairbrush, raised his shirt, and finally found some itch relief. Having never seen this approach modeled (although maybe I should consult Dad before making such boasts), I had to admire his ability to creatively problem solve. Max: 1, Impossible Itch: 0.