Boy, was I wrong when I thought that Owen was going to go straight to walking without crawling. He is a crawling fiend! Forget toys; all he wants to do is crawl, crawl, crawl. Oh, and walk.
The new playtime is to plop him on the floor in the middle of a room and let him go to town. He crawls to whatever the nearest piece of furniture is and pulls up to a stand. Then he cruises precariously between furniture pieces and toys, leaning and stretching until his little fingers can get a grip on the next thing so he can take a few steps and toddle around. If I am anywhere within reach, he scampers up me like a jungle gym and then scooches and squirms until he can jump out of my arms and onto something else (a table, a couch, the washer/dryer, his crib, changing table, whatever). I think I have a little acrobat on my hands.
Once in awhile he’ll lock eyes on a toy, beeline for it, sit up, and then do this adorable little bouncy dance where he flails the toy and wiggles his torso and giggles. It’s amazing what brings him such joy. And the simple pleasure is totally contagious. I laugh and laugh and laugh.
As I’ve said before, I think Owen has a special radar for things that are not his. Phones, tv remotes, water glasses, keys… they call to him like Greek sirens, luring him into dangerous positions, like with one finger on the (sharp! cornered!) coffee table and no other handhold in sight. I can see the glimmer in his eyes as he reaches and tries to walk with only one hand steadied by a piece of furniture. I have a feeling the “learning how to walk unassisted” milestone is nearly here. It’s all happening so fast. Teeth, crawling, almost-walking, all in the span of the last 2 weeks. I want to stop and drink it all in, but I’m too busy chasing after the little gingerbread man.
In Owen’s 8 month letter I said the word of the month was “sickness”. Now, without a doubt, it is “MOVEMENT”. I can barely catch the kid between his cute little butt crawling away (still mostly with one foot and one knee, though sometimes he’ll do a stretch of 2 knees) and his teetering steps while holding my fingers. My eyes constantly scan the floor for “what dangerous thing is he about to find or climb on”. Phew. Hard work!
And then, right when I think my job as a mother has been demoted to referee or thing to climb on, I get a cuddle. A sweet, quiet moment where he burrows his little head into my chest or takes my face in his hands and pats me softly or twirls my hair while I’m changing his diaper. These tender little moments are scattered throughout our days of exploring, and for those sweet, precious seconds, time stops. And I appreciate. And I drink it in.
And then it’s back to exploring! Catch him if you can…