"Help me do this by myself."

"Help me do this by myself."

Those are the words of my nephew, professional three year old, big boy and guru in training pants.

In case I haven't made this a repeated bragnote (as I am required to by the official Aunts of Three Year Olds Training Manual, Rule Book and Lexicon of Useful Terms): Doodlebritches potty trained early and potty trained well. He's pretty much got it down to an art now. Early in the process, though, sometimes he needed reassurance.

"Key?"

"Yes, Doodle?"

"I need go pee."

...

"Well, okay. Bathroom's that way. Need help?"

"No. I gon' do it by. my. self."

Well, okey doke then, Mr. Independent, I thought, remembering back to times before he made complete sentences. Seconds later, I hear a small voice down the hall, "Key?"

"Yes, Doodle?"

"Come help me do this by myself."

----

I remember laughing quietly. How was I supposed to do that? But he was entirely serious; he wanted me to help him do this by himself, and I did, grinning, because he's not only brilliant, he's cute, too.

I've been thinking about that a lot, though, and it strikes me that he might not be just adorable -- the little stinker may also be right.

Time and time again, I've found that the things I've done I've never done alone. I've always had some sort of support network -- friends, family, fan club, whatever -- people to cheer me on and to reassure me that I'm headed the right way. I've had people to help me do this by myself.

The best thing my parents ever did for me was to equip me to face life and its challenges: they help me do this by myself. It's all very biblical, when you get down to it. It's the building up and enabling of one another to be everything we are each meant to be. It's the strengthening and encouraging of the body of Christ, our source, who helps us do this by ourselves.

Sometimes I just need a three year old to point it out.