If you asked me a year ago if I was ready for my little one to be talking, I wouldn't have even been able to fathom what that would be like. Walking also seemed like it would be an impossible feat to accomplish, given his sweet, little "grub" status. (Indeed, I called him my little grub-ling and couldn't imagine him doing much more than cooing, crying and... well... other grub-like things!)
Now, at 15+ months, I'm constantly asked the question: "Is he walking yet?" Proudly, I say, "Nope!!" I'm thrilled I don't have to chase him around. I'm elated I don't have to worry that thud I just heard from the other room is his noggin. I'm relieved that I can still count his scrapes, bumps, and bruises on one hand.
My smug thoughts have a time limit, it seems. He's been able to take steps since he turned 1 year, but hasn't embraced the walking realm... Until now. I'd been watching my little "cruiser" for the past month or so. Gradually, he's been working on his balance, taking a few intermittent steps with trepidation, and only beginning to enjoy the "walk with daddy" assistance. The few times he's shown interest in taking the plunge have ended up face-first on the ground. He loves to move and his excitement got the best of him.
Yesterday at pick up from day care, his ladies said, "Wes took a lot of steps today... but he also fell forward a whole lot! We think he might be trying to run instead of walk." Last night was filled with try, after try, after try again to stand-balance-step-repeat.
Walking (or running?) is imminent. Better go lace up my running shoes. This boy is going to keep me busy, I just know it!