Ulysses was pushing his toy shopping cart across the bumpy lawn towards the sidewalk. Not easy. With about a third of the way yet to go, he backed away from the cart. Then he reached up towards me, a cue for my hand. He grasped my wrist and placed my hand, palm down, on the cart handle. He made little high-pitched grunts of dissatisfaction until I was stationed properly behind the cart, both hands gripping the bar.

Then he walked behind me, placed his hands on the backs of my knees, and pushed. Squeals of delight as I began to walk forward.

The first time I saw this hand-guiding behavior was last Friday. He walked over to the kiddy-locked pantry door and paused before it, then stretched out his arms to me until I came over. He took my hand and placed it on the handle of the pantry door. I opened the door, and he reached directly inside for the clear plastic canister of assorted nuts-in-the-shell that he'd seen there the day before.

Since then, he's also put his hand on my hand and guided it towards my eyeglasses if I happen to be wearing them. Sometimes he just gives me a dour look and points towards them. He bursts into giggling, celebratory squeals when I take them off.

He used to pluck at them himself, and it was all I could do to keep them intact as he tried to tear them off my head. From my point of view, this is better.