January 06, 2012
We have officially achieved and surpassed level one mobility: rolling as viable means of transportation.
I will no longer stay anywhere close to where you put me! The world now is full of places for me to get my head stuck! Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
But of course, two seconds after he mastered the art of rolling across the floor in search of brave new choking hazards and also dust bunnies and dead Christmas tree needles and dust bunnies made up of dead Christmas tree needles, he decided it was kind of bullshit, what with the occasional THWACK of his noggin on the hardwoods, so he went ahead and traded up for a +1 scooting power-up.
He doesn't quite have the knees-under-the-body thing down yet, so it's not exactly "crawling" but more of that weird mostly-arm-powered army trench crawl thing, while his legs paddle desperately behind him, occasionally finding some traction to power-boost him forward.
He's incredibly proud of himself. I'm trying to work up some fake enthusiasm even though, HISTORICALLY SPEAKING, mobile babies are the worst. THE WORST. Say goodbye to swings and bouncers and jumperoos and every other handy Child Containment Device because they will no longer have any of that shit, and say hello to digging disgusting things out of your baby's mouth 1,400 times a day and a life where taking 30 seconds to go to the bathroom is akin to playing Russian roulette with your baby's face. Because oh, yes. By the time you're done, there will be blood.
Yes, Circa 2009 Self, that's a great idea. You GET RIGHT ON THAT.
I know. I sound so bitter and hardened. I've just...I've been in the shit. I've seen the shit. You just...(trails off, eyes the horizon knowingly, yet unnervingly vacant)...you can only deal with so many teeth going through so many bottom lips before you start asking the big questions. What's the point? What are you doing with your life, endlessly trying to protect small, wiggly creatures with no sense of fear or gravity? Why can't you just wrap them in bubble wrap and a helmet and let Darwin figure the rest of this nonsense out?
Seriously, why do you have so many teeth? It's like nature just handed you a set of built-in scissors to run around with.
I told you guys about my Lego Anxiety Dream, right? At least in passing? I'm actually dead serious: the anxiety dreams of mysterious college finals and terrible waitressing experiences have been officially replaced by dreams about Legos. I'm at the airport and they're falling out of my suitcase by the dozen. I'm trying to get somewhere important but I'm barefoot and the floor is covered in them. I'm trying to find my phone or my wallet and everything in my purse is made of Legos and I'm trying to find the one last piece that will let me make a phone call but keep getting distracted by other important, valuable pieces like Harry Potter's hair or the inside part of a house window or Darth Vader's cape.
I'm basically LIVING that dream now, every day, as I beg and beg Noah and Ezra to keep the Legos off the floor and away from Ike. I've bought bins and containers and bags and crawled around on my hands and knees, picking up tiny stupid #$)@*&@ grommets and pointy castle tower toppers, only to be digging more of the same from Ike's fist five minutes later. I've tried appealing to the boys' love and sense of responsibility to their baby brother about the importance of keeping Legos and other small toys off the floor. (Though may GOD HAVE MERCY ON OUR SOULS when he pulls to a stand and discovers that the coffee table is where we really keep ALL OF THE COOL THINGS.)
I even, on the advice of my pediatrician, tried the gross-out tactic and warned them that if Baby Ike were to swallow any of their toys, they wouldn't get it back until he pooped it out into his diaper.
This was a mistake, BTW. Because the idea fascinated them way more than it disgusted them. And I now get the sense they are eyeing the baby as some kind of rolling, scooting science experiment.
But. Such is life. There will be no stopping the forward momentum, perhaps only the occasional thwarting by waxing the floors and keeping him in slippery footie pajamas so he can't get any traction and WHAT I AM JUST SAYING, IT'S NOT LIKE I'VE TRIED THAT OR WOULD EVEN KNOW IF THAT WORKS OR WHATEVER*. Baby Ike is now a baby on the go, just itching to do everything his big brothers do.
Headfirst, probably, most of the time.
Step One: Put baby on blanket.
Step Two: Turn your back on him for two blessed seconds.
Step Three: ???
Step Four: INSTAGRAM!
*It totally works.