The four little steps on Wednesday night were only gently alluding to what was to come. We now have a walking baby in our house. Yes Mariah, I realize I should be calling him a toddler, but I am quite positive I am not old enough to have a toddler, so he is a walking baby. Suck it.
He is so proud of himself each and every time he takes some steps. He gets all geared up, takes anywhere from 3 to 12 steps, plops down on his butt, and claps...all while brandishing the biggest smile possible. He was pretty stingy with the demonstrations yesterday. Only a couple steps here and there. And the stingy-ness continued this morning when I dropped him off at daycare. Not one single step. Every time I put him down he immediately went down to his hands and knees and attempted to escape into the "big kids" room. But I just got a message from daycare. The walking strike is over. According to them, he is a walking maniac.
I am a bit scared of the amount of chasing I am going to be required to do once he really figures this all out. But for now he is just so damn cute trying to figure it out, the fear doesn't stand a chance over every other happy emotion.
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