Those guys. They’re good ones.
A number of long distance friends and family have inquired about first steps, so I thought today we might chat about Long Legs McGoo, and his steps towards walking. Asher still isn’t walking and tomorrow marks his 16th month on the planet. I have found that if I say anything bordering on concern or complaint about the lack of biped activity going on, people are quick to point out that each child is on his or her own schedule, which I totally understand and have more or less embraced. Ok, well most people are quick to say that. One woman at the grocery told me that I needed to put him down more and just let him walk. I wish I had thought of that! She was a stranger and I did not like her. Anyway, other than that, I get a lot of reassurance that he’ll walk when he’s good and ready. But team? This mama is good and ready. The little budso is not that jazzed about being held when he’s out and about because there’s a whole big world out there and seeing it from your parent’s arms is just not that cool anymore. However, it’s January, it’s freezing cold down there on the ground, and additionally people think it’s weird if you let your kid crawl on the aisles of the grocery store. I know that I should think that’s weird too, but I’ve kind of hit the point where I would rather have a happy kid that has the whatever from the soles of 400 pairs of stranger’s shoes than have a crying squirming kid with germ-free hands that just. wants. to. get. down. I don’t blame him one bit, I would totally hate it if my Mom insisted on carrying me everywhere we went. My most recent assumption is that Asher has been secretly reading George Orwell after we put him to bed and has bought into the whole notion of four legs good, two legs bad. (We all know how that turns out, though). Or maybe he’s so enamored with the dogs, by far his favorite thing on earth, that he would like to maintain their ranks. Or maybe he’s just a kid with long legs and a wobbly torso that would rather crawl than walk. But I’m guessing it’s the George Orwell thing. Probably.
Two legs good, team. Two legs good.