One step, Two step, Slow step, Fast step.

Jessica is becoming quite the novice little walker – but she rarely has any direction, she just likes to walk, around. Her favorite, it seems, is to walk around with something in her hands; right now it’s the mobile from her pack-n-play.
She’ll throw it around, wiggle it and put it in her mouth all the while chit chatting with herself and walking towards, well, nothing. Just walking. And walking, and some more walking, with a side of walking.
One day soon I’m going to wake up, get her out of her crib, set her down for a minute and turn around to find she’s booked it from her bedroom, and then I have to find her before she ingests something toxic or before she finds the one door I forgot to close.
This game will soon become my life. My every waking moment. The reason I live and breathe, to find, hunt and protect the fearless baby running wild in my house.
And this game will never, ever end. Ever. Because walking turns into running, turns into going to school, turns into sleepovers away from us, turns into a teenager who threatens to run away to the backyard, turns into Jessica meets a boy and frolicks and takes walks and holds hands, turns into she goes to college, becomes independent and stops needing me to find, hunt and protect her. Turns into she has her own babies and realizes I never stopped finding, hunting or protecting her.
All of this because of legs.

2 thoughts on “One step, Two step, Slow step, Fast step.

  1. The other option, sis, is that you spend the rest of your life with a crib in the next room and the faint but unmistakable ‘eau de diaper’ near the main trashcan.
    Not a bad tradeoff, eh?

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