Crawling Practice

He is learning to crawl this week. He will do it. He has every inclination, he just needs to figure out how his knees work.
I set three wooden blocks – clunk, clap – into a tower, just out of reach, tempting him. He bounces forward, arms outstretched – he loves his blocks.
“I’m not going to help you,” I say with a grin, “You can do it!” He looks up in my face and blows a raspberry at me, his eyes joyful.
I go back to the book I’m reading and look up when I hear him grunting. He is stuck – he has maneuvered one leg out behind him and is stuck in a chubby, baby-sized straddle split. His little camouflage pants are taught against his knees and thighs. He rests his hands on his hips and for a moment he looks just like a gymnast pausing on the high beam. Then he grunts again, begging me to rescue him.
I relent, straighten his little legs, and stack the blocks between them, right under his nose. As I lean back, he reaches for me, the blocks forgotten, a grin on his face. He spreads his arms wide, smiles until his two teeth show, and says louder than words, “I love you. Mom!”

One response to “Crawling Practice”

  1. Natalie_S Avatar

    That is so sweet <3

    You definitely have a knack for writing.

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