Creepy Crawly

In the past week, Leah has:

* begun “crawling.” I say “crawling” because it’s her own interpretation of the classic….she kind of creeps along the floor. It’s a modified army crawl. She has been working on the more traditional method of crawling, though, by getting on all fours and rocking back and forth. It’s coming. She’s rolling less and less and is creeping around more and more.

* started sitting up on her own. By this I mean going from a laying down position to sitting up; she has been sitting without support for quite awhile. She does it so quickly that I never really know she’s done it until I suddenly think, “Wait a minute….I didn’t sit you up….”

* pulled herself up for the first time. She was in her crib after her nap while I was putting some clothes away in her closet. The view between the bars of the crib wasn’t good enough, it seemed, and when I looked she was peering at me from over the rails, holding on with her hands.

* given me my first big, wet, open-mouthed baby kisses. I questioned at first whether this was what she was actually doing, but the timing of it seemed appropriate (I had just gotten back from a short absence when she did it for the first time). Too sweet for words.

With those developments, I can officially say that we’ve reached the age where:

* silence can cause alarm and an interruption to whatever I’m doing as I run to see what she’s up to.

* remaining within sight and hearing distance while using the restroom is no longer good enough. She will come and find me, one way or another. (In other words, goodbye, sweet privacy.)

* things I never thought could be interesting must be placed far out of the reach of tiny wandering hands. (i.e. computer cords, trash cans, etc.)

* tiny fingerprints and slobber marks adorn everything below a certain height.

* I can sit her anywhere to play and she can be entertained. If the chosen locale isn’t fun, she’ll find one that is.

* her clothes are getting dirty in weird places.

* things that have been placed on tables, sofas, railings, etc, are likely to not be there when I come back; rather, they are likely to be on the floor below, soggy with drool.

* coming back into a room and asking, “Where’d you go?!” is normal.

* entering church with smeared makeup and damp pieces of hair is normal, as she has thanked me for getting her out of her car seat with big grateful kisses.

* I can no longer creep into her room on my hands and knees during nap time thinking, “Even if she hears me, she won’t be able to see me, so it won’t disrupt her nap.”

* it’s normal to see little pajama-clad legs poking out from behind things as she explores.

* new little bumps and scratches make me ask, “Honey, how’d you do that?”

* my baby is becoming a child. I’m not sure how I feel about this.

And, if you ever wondered what it's like to be a baby toy on the floor awaiting your turn to be played with, this is for you: