Progress Report.

I know that while all of you were sipping/downing your coffee/tea this morning, you were overcome with the nagging sensation of a burning question that you just couldn’t quite put your finger on.  What is it? You kept wondering…what is that I’m trying to figure out here?

Well look no further my friends.  I’m sure that feeling was just your desire to know whether or not Asher has taken his long awaited first steps!  Hmm?  What’s that?  You just remembered that actually Drew and I and maybe a few select grandparents are the only ones spending time over the rim of a mug pondering this?  Surely not!  I’m sure that you’re all just desperate to see what’s happening in the world of biped-dom at Casa Walton.  Well far be it for me to keep this vital piece of information from you, so without further ado, I will tell you that Asher has taken his first steps…

sorta.

He walks between us, though he’s still not doing a lot of standing on his own (read: any?) and he’s not really initiating going from squatting/sitting to walking/standing, but he has taken steps on his own and I’m rolling with it.

Wanna see?

Watch out Carl Lewis! (And quick shout out to babies in striped one pieces. How old do you have to be before people start calling these outfits unitards?)
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Baby Steps.

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.