Thursday, 28 April 2011

Creepy crawly

For a long time, I was convinced that Lumpy was never going to crawl. He had no interest in crawling, I told myself. It's undignified. Babyish. He would go directly from sitting to walking, with none of this crawling nonsense in between.

This assumption was based in part upon Lumpy's utter lack of interest in mobility. For months, he had an almost Zen-like calm, and would sit happily in the same place for long stretches of time, playing contentedly with whatever was within arm's reach. I worried, initially, that I was responsible for this inertia by putting all his most desirable toys near to him, and that, as a concerned mother, I should actually be encouraging him to move by leaving them tantalizingly out of reach. But no. Even when I placed the mirror-earred rabbit (best for chewing and admiring oneself in) or the plastic castle, complete with king, queen, knight, and wizard (also very good for chewing and generally flinging about) out of reach, he still just sat there. Initially, he would flail towards the distant toys to check that he definitely could not reach them, and then he would just sit. And think. About all the concertos he would compose just as soon as he got his hands on a piano, no doubt. Or a new theory of quantum time travel. Or boobs, possibly.

But let's be honest here. It was not just Lumpy's seeming delight in being static that made me plump for the 'he'll go straight to walking theory'. The real reason was competitive mothering.

I try not to be one of those awful mothers. I really do. I try so hard not to compare Lumpy to other babies; not to freak out when they're performing backflips and tightrope walking while Lumpy sits there drooling in the corner. I strive not to boast about all of his many, amazing achievements, like the three or four giant poos he is capable of producing on a daily basis; the speed with with he can mainline raisins (hand to mouth: 0.734 milliseconds); or his psychic ability to puke all over himself only when I have left the house without a muslin. Astonishing though these skills are, I nobly maintain my silence around other mothers. I don't want them driven so wild with jealousy that they throw their own babies in skips, do I?

But when the crawling issue comes up, I always, always find myself saying, 'oh, I think he'll just go straight on to walking, you know. He just doesn't seem interested in crawling. I'm sure he could crawl, if he wanted to. But he's so much more interested in standing. Very advanced he is, really... Have I told you about his poos? Look, I saved one from earlier...'

So imagine my surprise when this happened.

Ha. wotch me defie you alls withs my unexpected crawlings. Particularly when nakedz.

So. Crawling. In the spirit of full disclosure, I should point out that it is not the most coordinated, elegant crawling that has ever been performed. In fact, it is more reminiscent of a wounded soldier desperately dragging himself from the battlefield. But still. My little Lumpy can crawl.

Walking? Pah. Completely overrated.