Holy Mobility, Batman!

The Beginning of the End

In, like, the last week, Milo has somehow totally gotten coordinated.  While he can't pull himself into a sitting position from flat on his back, he can do it in any number of other ways.  And while he's not crawling, per se, he's doing something remarkably like it that gave me a little heart attack the other day when I had him on our bed while I was changing clothes.  So I won't be doing that again.

In fact, as I sit here typing this post, I have an eye on the baby monitor, because although he is supposed to be taking a nap, that means that I put him in his crib, leave the room and either A) he sleeps for twenty-six to thirty-one minutes or B) he does what he is doing now: rolls around, semi-crawls, and now pulls himself up to a sitting position, and then a kneeling position, looking perilously close to somehow catapulting over the side of the crib.

All this movement!  While I am certainly tired from hauling him around everywhere, I am filled with anticipatory tiredness thinking about chasing him.  His round, rippling thunder-thighs will become lean and muscled as he becomes a sprinter extraordinaire (probably with solid long-distance capabilities as well) and I will constantly be giving chase, tearing him away from bleach, razor blades, exposed wiring and the gaping maws of feral dingoes.  Crap.