Walking and Talking

Ode to Jack Walking (sung to the tune of "But Not the Hippopotamus"):

Jack and his snack are walking forth and back
But not his hippopotamus.

A boy and his toys are making some noise
With his walker, a hippopotamus.

Now Jack and his snack are walking out back
With his toys making noise like he's more than one boy.

With yes, his hippopotamus.

I think some small part of us - Emily, anyway - was a little concerned when Jack, more than 15 months old, showed little inclination to walk. We kind of figured he'd be a little slow since I, allegedly, didn't walk until I was 18 months, which strikes me as untrue, but I was too young to be certain.

People told us to enjoy his pre-walking days while we could, because once he could walk, our lives would be a lot more difficult. That hasn't really been the case yet, but he's certainly walking, and there's no stopping him now.

Now that he CAN walk, I don't think he spent as much as two seconds crawling today. Put him down on the floor, and he immediately stands. If he wants out, he walks away. Even though he's not going very quickly yet, he's clearly very proud of his new-found ability, striding along, lifting his little feet up and down, slightly bow-legged, with his elbows kind of sticking out and his hands reaching forward like he's the Frankenstein monster, a little smile cracking his features.

His walking is augmented by talking, as he's frequently walking toward something of interest. Like a ball, even when that ball belongs to another child, like the one we saw at the park today. Every time we put him down and tried to steer him in another direction, he'd pivot and head right back toward that ball. "Bawh! Bawh! Bawh? Bawh."

Then he'll stand in the doorway and wave at people in the street as they walk by. "Hi! Hi!" And then, as they disappear: "Buh bye! Buh bye!" Really, it's classic.

He says Mommy and Dada so often while walking we're convinced these words have multiple meanings in his mind. He'll walk across the house, walking right by his Mommy, saying "Mommy? Mommy. Mommy?" At the park he'll point toward random strangers. "Dada. Dada." Which as you can imagine is something I'd sort of like to discourage in the future.

Seeing him walk is filling me with weepy nostalgia about the early days, when he couldn't even lift his head, followed by him being unable to roll over, followed by him being unable to sit up, and then unable to crawl, and now...well, again: car keys. It's only a matter of time.

But if there's half as much fun in everything else as seeing the little grin on his face as he bobs and bounces on his little bare feet across the living room floor, well, I guess I can handle it.