That was today, in the morning ds picked up a book of experiments that we got at the library, one of those ones with lots of pictures, and replicated one of the experiments himself, one about a ramp and friction. The only help he asked for was finding a big enough piece of cardboard.
Then we met some friends at the pool, where the big deal is the water slide. After four times of going up with him he was ready for me to just catch him. Then suddenly he called to me from the slide to not catch him because he could swim now. And sure enough he swam the ten feet to the wall himself.
It always happens this way around here. I start to get antsy about him learning something, and think about some sort of lessons, even with me or out of the house and then he goes and teaches himself what he needs.
Oh and some how in the last week he's figured out the difference between lower case and upper case letter and knows what most of them are. Again nothing we sat down and did. Just a erasable letter book we picked up a while ago that we keep around.
The biggest thing I find myself doing lately is practicing not teaching him. As an ex-teacher it still is a battle inside of me to let him lead. But when stuff like this happens I sigh and take yet another step back from teaching him and another step towards feeling at peace inside myself at doing this.