For the past week and a half, Ned has been attempting to walk.
Originally, I assumed he was regressing, due to the steady increase in our son falling over. I’d assumed that Ned had decided that yes, he’d tried to develop into a better baby, but the novelty of all this standing and cruising around sofas and coffe tables had worn off, and he’d decided that he was just going to lie wherever he landed and wait for toys, breast milk and family members to come to him, much like when peasants brought gifts to their king.
Of course, the truth in all the falling over was that in fact, he was attempting to stand unaided for longer periods, and gradually move into the until recently foreign world of two limbed movement (legs, not hands obviously.)
I think it was around that time he walked, or to put it more accurately, drunkenly stumbled between his parents, as we took turns receiving him, turning him around to face the other parent, and repeat the process. Since then, he has been making vast improvements – his current record stands at 5 wobbly, stiff legged unaided stomps of his trotters towards a set destination, something that I’m am both proud and terrified of in equal measure.
A new habit born of his recently developed confidence is the inclusion of food during a particularly intensive session of being upright – nothing is more disconcerting than walking into the living room, only to be confronted by a ten month old baby, rooted to the spot, eating a plum while standing and staring at you – It’s fairly intimidating. I make sure in situations like this I never look away, for fear he will be somewhere else in the living room, standing and staring at me while eating a plum.
On the subject of eating, last weekend my son managed to put away more in a day than I did. Highlights include a plum, bolognese, yoghurt, another plum, toast, some rice cakes, a plum and of course, a plum.
It’s fair to say my son enjoys the occasional plum.