After 10 blissful months of doing very little, sitting like a Buddha with his only hobbies being a penchant for breadsticks and growing 2mm of tooth, The Boy with No Name is on the move. And my life is over.
If Elvis did yoga.
The hips have been gyrating for a few weeks now. He’s perfected his own version of the downward dog. And now he’s finally worked out how to move the hands and legs in tandem.
It doesn’t matter how many kids you have, you’re never ready for the crawling stage. The inconvenience of not being able to leave a room. Just like that.
Without fashioning some sort of cage. Or fighting with a stairgate. Or just giving in and carrying a small person on your hip.
And for a newbie, crikey he can move. 0-60 in about a second.
And I want to ask him, ‘Hey, what’s the hurry? Do you have an appointment you’re late for or something? Seriously, why the rush?’
But he just looks at me gormlessly. Before taking off in the other direction.
So now we spend most of our day doing the following:
a) picking him up and putting him back to the ‘beginning’ – a bit like one of those wind up cars that you rev up and then let go. Except those cars are fun. And you probably don’t rev them up 463 times in one day.
b) going to places where he has to be strapped down (anywhere with a highchair)
c) wondering when naptime is
Boys move. Girls groove.
It’s not just the ability to cover ground that’s the issue. It’s the meddling that goes with it.
The grabbing. The insane curiosity. The determination to know how everything works by pulling it apart.
I’ve been warned by friends with boys. With a look that translates as, ‘You’ve no idea what’s coming.’ One vigilant friend has a 2 year old who if left to his own devices for even a second, will, in that second, find something dangerous to eat. Glue. Paint. Make-up. He’s not fussy.
But this is baby no. 3, I thought. I’ve got this down. And my girls weren’t exactly quiet and calm. So, he’s going to be fine. And I’m going to be fine, right?
Bye bye freedom. Hello madness.
He’s already achieved things in 4 days that the girls still wouldn’t do.
This morning he emptied an entire drawer of all of his clothes. Before swiftly getting bored and making a dash for ‘under the bed.’ Because that’s an exciting place to explore. Full of crap that has nowhere else to live. Oh and dust. Lots and lots of dust.
And if he thinks I haven’t noticed how he’s eyeing up the kitchen cupboard with all our glasses in (conveniently positioned at floor level), well I have. I totally have.
Meanwhile, I have no idea how I’m ever again going to enjoy a cup of tea and catch up on Made In Chelsea.
Which, let’s face it, is the whole point of having a baby and going on maternity leave.
Finally. As if crawling isn’t enough to be going on with, yesterday I caught him trying to climb the wall.
Which really is completely unnecessary.
Because, right now, I’m climbing the walls enough for the both of us.