There are things that I have been dreading, nay denying that they will ever happen despite a lot of evidence to the contrary. I go on and on pretending that everything will stay exactly as it is today and well that strategy has been working for me. Except for that messy bit about how shit but keeps happening anyway. That part is a kind of lame.
One of those things is crawling. OH YES MY BAYBEEE IS CRAWLING! Unacceptable is what that is. She just turned seven months old yesterday. IS SHE ALLOWED TO DO THIS? WHAT AUTHORITIES CAN I CALL?
Sorry for the shouty but this! Makes me shouty! And abuse punctuation! But my life is so very over. This house, while charming, is a total death-trap for a mobile but poor judgement showing thing. I means she already eats hairballs and keeps petting the cat (you know, the cat that wants to kill us all), I am pretty sure she will pull that damn bakers rack in the kitchen on top of herself any second now. It is fortunate that her crawling is more of a forward moving inch at this time but I am pretty sure she will be a pro in no time at all.
I had planned for her to be like me. I never crawled. True to lazy-ass form I held my arms up to be carried until one day I was like Fuck It and walked. Then learned to roller skate a week later. YES I WAS VERY LAZY.
But the damn kid has her own ideas and abilities and I vote hell no.
I was just thinking earlier this week about how much I was enjoying this stage. Where she can really play with toys and sit there on her own and man it is really handy for going to the bathroom. I mean, yes, she could roll but she really wasn't going to roll for distance. It was blissful really. I enjoyed that stage. All five weeks of it.