Thursday, March 2, 2006

Who moved my baby?

On Tuesday, I was sitting at the computer while Reilly played behind me in her den. I would glance back from time to time to make sure she was okay, but typically she’ll let out a cry if she’s unhappy, so for the most part, I was typing along in peace. It was then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. I looked down next to my chair, and there was Reilly.

“How did you get over here?” I asked.

Since she hasn’t yet learned how to answer me, I placed her back in the middle of her den, and watched her. She leaned over to her hands and knees, flopped to her stomach, and then slowly crawled all the way over to me. Just like that.

Now, if this was the crawl Olympics, Reilly wouldn’t have scored well on the technical side—her crawl resembled that elbows and knees shuffle that military trainees do underneath the barbed wire. As her dad, though, I’m not interested in judging her, so when she reached me I picked her up and swung her in the air in a congratulatory whoop and swoop.

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