The Boy started walking quite early – when he was about 10 months old. I was totally taken aback by how proud of him I was when he took those first two steps and then fell into my waiting arms. In a few short weeks he went from one small step, for baby, to one giant leap for baby kind AKA capering around like a drunken baby monkey with a deep fascination for all things potentially fatal.
So off we went to the marvellous Shoes and Sox in the mall. I still like them despite the spelling of socks that makes me feel a bit sic.
When he tried his very first pair of shoes on, he couldn’t walk. Shoes off – can walk. Shoes on – can’t walk. The poor blighter got annoyed, wailed at me for a bit, then applied himself. Got up, fell down, got up again, fell down again. But after a while he was walking. Not as good as without shoes but functionally fine.
How like parenting, I thought. You just feel like you are getting the hang of things when – BAM – something changes and it feels like you have to start all over again.
I was reminded of it again this week as The Norwegian and I battle with the tail end of the transformation of our chilled, cooing baby into a hitting, kicking, shoving, head-butting and pinching mean machine. Please thank the stars that we don’t have a biter as well. (touch wood).
If only I had the perseverance of the average toddler. I guess they haven’t learnt how hard life can be, that some things, no matter how hard you try, stay broken and painful and hard.
But we wont be beaten, and any tips on how to deal with a mini Thai kick-boxing champ greatly appreciated.