So the baby is walking. On Superbowl Sunday, while neither her father nor I were paying here the least bit of attention, she just got out of her chair and started walking around the apartment. Not just taking a few steps and falling. But walking all over the apartment with her arms way up over her head and her hands flapping. "Look Mama, no hands!!!!" We shrieked and screamed and she giggled and then the Steelers won.
Since then she does it just a bit more every day. Wednesday was one of those wonderful sneak peek of Spring days. Very warm. We went to the park and for the first time she toddled around the playground by herself. This part, however, was terrifying. She is so small. She seems so much smaller than all of those boys who zoom around the playground, whacking each other and yelling things about pirate ships and Batman. She wants to stand at the bottom of the slide and watch them come flying down. Which I have tried to reason with her is not a very good idea. That reasoning didn't go over so well. There were many small fits pitched when I removed her from one hazard or another. I remembered how everyone said to me, "You're lucky she's not walking." I pretty much knew that was true at the time. Now I really do. But I'm still glad she's doing it.
There was this one sweet faced boy at one of the playgrounds who she kept smiling at. And then he would smile at her. She didn't talk to him, but they did look at each other for quite a while. I started imagining that they would meet up again in college. They'd fall in love and some late night over pizza they'd realize they lived two blocks from each other when he was three and she was one. Until his mother left her job at Columbia and they moved to Boston. They'd wonder if they ever passed each other in their strollers or if they saw each other on the playground. There's that line in one of those John Mayer love songs (I'm kinda a sucker for John Mayer) "I could have met you in a sandbox. I could have passed you on the sidewalk."
My husband and I have had this conversation. I lived in Lexington, MA for several years and he has cousins there whom they visited all the time. "I could have met you by the Minute Man. I could have passed you at the Burlington Mall..."
So I'm looking at this sweet faced kid and thinking about all of this. And then he did finally open his mouth. And I'm not even sure what he said, but it was totally weird. He sounded like a frog and suddenly seemed a little creepy.
And I thought, that's okay. She doesn't have to marry this one.