Yeah, we’re a week behind again. I know, I know.
You did it! You took your first steps!
Your dad and I now get to experience the joys of living with, for all intents and purposes, a tiny little drunk person.
You stagger from place to place and frequently fall down. You set out on the way to a particular destination, only to stop midway to inspect little pieces of carpet fuzz on the floor. You eat cat food. You don’t talk; you shout gibberish at us and cry when we don’t understand you.
At least you’re an affectionate drunk. I can usually persuade you to take a few steps by sitting about six feet away from you and encouraging you with a smile. You giggle and lurch towards me, picking up speed as you go until you fall into my outstretched arms and rest your head on my shoulder for just a moment before you push off and careen away.
It’s the best. It’s absolutely the best.
It also opens up a whole new world of mischief for you to manage. You laugh at our attempts to babyproof and constantly find all manner of things to stuff in your mouth, making me ask about a million times a day, “Where did you get that?” and then pry it out of your fingers.
But that smile, oh, that smile. You chose to go for the pearl-clutching look in this week’s photo rather than show me that heart-melting smile, but trust me: it’s infectious and has me laughing at your antics even on the most frustrating days.
So stagger on, sweet girl. I’ll always be there to catch you.
And to sweep the cat food out of your mouth.