I remember E’s first steps: arms outstretched for balance like Frankenstein, toddling a foot or two, and then falling into our arms, giggling with the glee of accomplishment. Now all he wants to do is walk, or more often, run.
Dave and I took a day trip to a random city on his day off a little while ago and E. would have nothing to do with the stroller. When in it, he screamed as if it was an electric chair and not a lovely invention meant to get parents where they want to go in a reasonable amount of time. No, E. had to walk with his fleshy little hand gripping my index finger.
After the first couple blocks I couldn’t imagine going any slower and then E. found a way. He decided to bend down and feel the sidewalk every three feet. And then, it got even more leisurely when he engaged in his first imaginative play. This involved pretending to pick up something off the ground and eat it. I thought about shouting to the cars and fellow pedestrians, “He’s not really eating. He’s pretending. I don’t let my kid eat rocks. Really, I don’t.”
And for that matter, where was he getting the idea from? It’s not like I go around picking stuff off the ground and eating it. Really. I don’t. (Maybe Dad???)
E. did show me that sometimes it’s nice to dawdle, hold hands with someone you love, and pretend the ground is covered with blueberries just waiting to be eaten.
P.S. Turtle's eye is almost all better.
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