Growing Up?

Something very strange is going on with my ten-year-old.
Kyle might actually be maturing, just a bit.
The other morning, while I was scrambling to get the three boys fed, dressed, brushes and book-bagged, and then to school before late-pass time, he offered to TAKE THE GARBAGE OUT!
But wait, there's more (don't I sound like an infomercial?)
Then, when Jesse spilled his milk, Kyle said "I'LL CLEAN THAT UP."
He's been organizing his backpack the night before school, getting up with only three gentle reminders--instead of the bed-shaking, tickling and singing I used to do last year--and is, more often than not, the first one ready to go on school mornings.
I mean, shoes on, wearing his maroon sweatshirt, hair neatly combed ready to go.
Now, Kyle still wants to snuggle with mom, would prefer to sleep in our bed than his own and uses the phrase "No fair!" way too often.
But after approximately 10, 000 repetitions of "Clean your room, do your homework, get ready for bed" and my other favorite phrases, perhaps a few have sunk in.