Watch Out, I'm Walking!

Mama, dada! Look! Look!

Woah, watch out… I’m walking!

Oops… and I’m down.

Now I’m starting to walk, you’ll need to keep your wits about you. Thought my crawling stage was tough? Ha. Oh, my sweet, naive parents…

Doors? Cupboards? Draws?

Anything within reach of me will be fair game, just to prewarn you… even if you THINK it’s out of my reach, I’ll find a way to get my sticky little hands on your swag.

Thought my magpie tendencies were bad when I started crawling…? We’ve just levelled up!

Cans of deodorant, bottles, jewellery, TV remotes, these things are all far more fun and interesting than the many expensive toys you’ve lavished on me. And now that I can walk, they can become mine…

Ouch! Mama, dada, I’m hurt. Now I can walk, I’m becoming more acquainted with sharp corners, poking edges and hard surfaces which do NOT feel good. Not at all. Watch out; now I can walk, I’m going to be getting into mischief!

Don’t bother with the sticky latex corner guards, though. I like to rip them off and chew on them. Yummy!

Oh, look, a door! Must. Open. Now.

*SLAM*. And close. Then repeat for 4 solid hours whilst babbling incoherently. So satisfying!

(Note to parents… invest in doors with high handles to save your fucking sanity…)

Anyway, I digress.

This new, unprecedented level of freedom I’m experiencing is amazing, and you may feel sad that I am becoming so very independent, but please don’t fret. I still need you guys.

When I fall and scrape my knees, I’ll need you.

When I knock my head on the door frame when running riot, I’ll need you.

I’ll always need you, mama and dada, when when I am a big grown up!

Watch out – I can walk, but not without you by my side.

This is written from the POV of my 18 month old son, Max, and how he’s been since finding his feet.