My son took his first step this morning. He’s been standing unassisted for several seconds at a time since last weekend, and standing up without using furniture for about as long, but this morning was different. He was clinging to the door frame in the kitchen and was making inarticulate “Daddy, come here” noises. I moved to about two meters away and motioned for him to come to me.
Usually, he’d let go of the door frame, drop to a crawl, crawl over to me, and then hoist himself back up using my legs for leverage. Today, he let go of the door frame and took one clear step toward me, and then half of another one before sinking to his knees.
But that was his first clear step, and I’m so happy that I was there for it. Given that he spends more than half of his waking hours at the preschool during the week, and that it’s usually my wife playing with him on the weekends, I feel pretty lucky that I was present (the only one present) for at least one major milestone of Hammy’s development.
He’s actually behind most of his contemporaries for walking. Both the other 13-month-old kids at the preschool are already toddling around and have been for a couple of weeks. But that’s okay. I was a late walker too. I’m still a slow learner—I really don’t like doing anything until I’m sure I can do it. (He’s way ahead on climbing skills, though.)
Speaking of the daycare, yesterday was an official parents-visit day. This week and next week are, in fact, days when parents can book themselves in for a morning and participate in classes. (That’s him in the cardboard box in the photo on the left.) We’ve been told that Hammy is an angel at daycare usually, and I believe it. He rarely cries when I drop him off, and even then he’s forgotten about me within 30 seconds of saying goodbye and is playing contentedly. When I drop him off and pick him up, I frequently see or hear a lot of the other children in his class bawling their wee heads off, but I’ve only seen him do it once—he’d only napped for 40 minutes that day and was overtired.
But yesterday, after he noticed that I was staying, he broke out of his blissful mode, crawled over to me during morning story-reading, and started fussing. He was a huge pain in the backside for about 75% of the time I was there, being just as fussy as he usually is in the evenings when I bring him home. At least, my wife told me, they’ll have some idea of what he’s like at home.
Sure, I guess. But I’d kind of like them to go on thinking he’s always that beatific boy I drop off and pick up.