Walking tall

Charlie has been practicing his walk. (I just know he’s getting ready to run down the Gulf Coast beaches in a couple of weeks.) Yesterday, when I picked him up from daycare, one of his teachers, Samina, said he’d been walking well all day long, “just like a little man.”

When he saw me, he was at the far end of the playroom, banging blocks. He smiled and dropped to all fours. (It’s still faster to crawl.) Samina helped him stand and said, “Show Mommy how well you can walk.” He stood for a minute, a little unstable, and then he took one clunky step after another. All the way across the playroom. He avoided toys and uneven mats. The closer he got to me, the bigger his smile became. By the time he plopped into my arms he was glowing with pride.

He looked up at me, still smiling, and his eyes said, “Did you see me? Did you see what I did?” I said, “Wow! Charlie, you walked so far! That was great.” And my heart flipped around and got all mushy.


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