Life as we know it has ended. They always say that to you when you have a baby, but I had a sneaking suspicion that the life-ending comes a bit later, when your child begins to be mobile. Until just recently, I could lay Katherine on a blanket on her back on the counter (I’m RIGHT THERE, so don’t worry) and entertain her by washing dishes, cooking, and playing with her feet. Talk about cheap entertainment! She especially liked the flashing knives.
But yesterday I came back from a meeting to be greeted with “She’s learned a new trick.” Now Katherine, if put on her stomach, pushes up onto her forearms, slides back a few inches, and then collapses onto her chest. When she repeats this over and over again (which she does with maddening intensity) she can move herself backwards across the floor. So much for putting her on the floor on a cute blanket and watching her play. And, given how close she is to rolling over, no more counter time. In fact, no more fun for Mom and Dad, who very much liked being able to play with their little girl on a surface higher than the hard floor!
I also ran into a bunch of colleagues yesterday, many of whom haven’t seen me in six months or so. I got lots of excited, “Is there a baby?” It felt very odd replying “Yes!”; I didn’t want to give them a heart attack, but I don’t think we have a baby on our hands any more. One look at those tense little legs and it’s pretty clear that we’re well on our way to a much bigger problem.