I asked the physiotherapist what this means for her baby book.
Me: "How do I fill out the First Steps Taken bit? I mean, is she walking? Technically, she has walked. But can we say she is walking?"
Physio: "Well, no. What we say is, she has taken her first steps..."
Hey, at least she took me seriously and answered my question. I'd only been half-joking, but I supposed it was a real nagging question I now had.
So now we're well into the LGBB's twenty-second month. She is still largely walking assisted. At least it's a case of "yes, yes, everybody can see that you have walked so they know you can walk and perhaps the medical profession at large will leave you alone to get on with it in your own time... now, we'll just look over here and pretend we didn't notice you walking around". We have to be most careful not to overdo any praise or encouragement, lest it cause her to retreat from her efforts (it's backfired a few times on us and now it's more a case of telling Lolly routinely that I am not going to help her, that she can get up and walk over and get 'whatever' herself). But little miss isn't giving in without the good fight. She will stand like a mule with its heels dug in and set her jaw in such a way that I know we're in this confrontation for the long haul. I get every procrastination and whiney, toe-digging-into-carpet angst-ridden protest under the sun, along with a scrunched-up, badly acted face that I suppose is aimed to make me soften and come and rescue her. I know she's only a wee sprite, a mere dot on the planet, but holy hell after two years of carrying her around and now feeling increasingly like I'm being played.... it's kinda starting to wear thin, especially when her peers (and younger) are at least self-sufficient in their upright mobility now. She's as stubborn as her mother, this kid *sigh*
Just this week, I vaguely recall my mother's voice saying (when I was about nine), "Just you wait, your children are going to whinge and complain to you and then you'll know what it's like." Poor mum. What a long time waiting for her retribution.
But dang, the old girl was bloody right. And shit.... the LGBB's nowhere near the age I was when my mother flipped out and said what she did, in what could only have been a moment of sheer frustration at whatever it was I was currently bellyaching about (I know I whined a lot as a kid, I'll freely admit). Good Lord, what am I in for in future years? *grimace* Thank heavens for my mother I was not a rebel or a trouble-maker, I think I would have been terrible to "control".
So given that we want the LGBB not to go backwards or get slack in progressing, we've had to continue to up the challenge, devise ways of enticing her to strengthen those little matchstick lower limbs without realising or thinking too much about it (for you can sometimes see her thinking, waaaaait a second I'm walking and they want me to walk and...noooo I don't wanna now!). The latest has been 'taking baby for a walk to the shops'. This is no easy task for a little girl, to take her baby to the shops. Isn't it funny that you never saw just how uneven and precarious the footpath is until you walk it like you're two?
It takes a bit of forward-planning and sight to prepare for the LGBB to either make it part way or the whole way to the shops. Properly fitted shoes are a must. A drink for all those rest-stops and a whole heap of free time ahead of you so you can spare the hour or so it takes to make it the usually five minutes' walk up the street, factoring in all the "Oooh! Birds! OOH!! Blue car!" talking points (which also necessitate long pauses in the walking). But there's not been a day yet that she has made it the whole way there and back. So the most important take-along is the LGBB's pram for the ride home.
We took these photos a couple of weeks ago, Steve with his pram and Lolly with hers. It's handy her baby both fits and doesn't mind fitting (pram and all) in the lower part of her "mummy's" pram for the stroll home.
