Baby Steps

Monday was an amazing day in the Croyle household. Payton took her first steps on her own. I should probably back up a second and explain how we got to that point. Also, I should mention that this was a bigger moment in my mind than her first words. Speaking comes mostly by accident. She utters some sounds, strings them together and eventually realizes we approve of the sounds, so she repeats it. I know, it probably seems weird to say that since her first words were momma and dadda, but it just seems to come so naturally. However, when she started saying “hi” and “buh-bye” and using them in the right context, that was a moment of pride.

Walking though. That is definitely a different beast. It takes skills to walk. You cannot just be dropped onto your legs and just start walking. There is a progression. Payton loves to stand up and hold onto the ottoman. Or she loves to walk while holding onto your hands. One of the things we like to practice with her is standing on her own without holding onto anything. She has been getting better and we figured it was time to start trying to walk.

Lindsey and I were playing with her and I had Payton standing on her own. Lindsey told her to come to her and she took a slow, shaky step, then another, and then another. She grabbed Lindsey and saw our excitement and began clapping like a crazy person. She was too excited to try again, she just wanted to fall over and clap. But later on we were upstairs and she did it again a few more times. She can only take three or four steps before she falls over, but it is walking. Albeit like Frankenstein’s monster (you people do realize that Frankenstein was the doctor, not the guy with bolts in his neck, right?).

This is the part where I am supposed to lament how fast she is growing up and how I wish time would stop. But…no. I do not feel that way. I am pumped that she is starting to walk. And before you say something like “oh just wait!” or “you won’t be so excited about it for long.” I am not saying I want her to grow up, but I love seeing the changes. I love seeing the joy on her face when she figures something out. And I will not lie, I will definitely love not having to hunch over while she walks all over the place. Granted, I will have to hold her hand still, so she needs to grow like three more inches. Only time in my life that I have been too tall.

On a serious note, at what point can I stop referring to her age as months? Today she is 11 months. Next month she will be a year, but then some people will be like “oh, my son is 18 months.” Ummm, what? that is a year and a half. Screw it, maybe I will just switch to days. “Payton is 335 days old.”

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