Yesterday, I was hanging out with Joony when I held out my hands for him to grab onto so we could walk into the living room. He wrapped chubby fists around my fingers for a step or two, but then he just...walked off down the hallway. By himself! He's taken a couple steps back and forth between outstretched arms before, but toddling off of his own accord? A first. It goes without saying that I burst into tears, right? You know me well enough by now to know that I cry about this Joony stuff at the drop of a hat. He did it a couple more times yesterday after that, confirming that he is officially confident and excited about walking. And I was left behind, eating his dust, scratching my head and wondering what in the world I was doing while he grew up.
I feel like having a walker (a toddler, logically, because he...toddles now) launches me into a new realm of parenting. This realm has playgrounds and interactive zoo exhibits and wanting to run off in stores. He's not there quite yet, of course--he's only doing a handful of steps before face planting--but surely it's not far off! I'm feeling unsure of how to reconcile my excitement for all of his new adventures with my heartbreak at losing a cuddly, sleepy baby. I want that baby back! Not in the lets-get-pregnant-now way, but in the lets-rewind-the-clock way.
I don't know how to end this--basically, my baby walked today and I have mixed feelings about it, but mostly it's so exciting. Over and out. Oh, also? That last picture is my around the house uniform, and it is horrifyingly ugly and so comfortable.