Siga Me!

Before they learn to crawl, babies are a cinch to manage. Once in a while they may roll under a table or around the corner, but they’re usually confined to a 10-foot radius – like The Running Man, but without the exploding heads.

Ian didn’t learn to crawl until the day before he started walking, so his radius grew exponentially larger during that first year. He had learned to roll so early that crawling was just too much work. If it ain’t broke…. But even then his progress could be deflected with a well-placed cushion, chair, or foot.

Crawling poses a more difficult challege in terms of herding. Increased speed is the main problem, when a moment’s distraction can turn into a frenzied house-wide search for one’s child. In such moments, a parent’s emotions run from frustration to concern to ‘what do you mean, “where’s the baby?!”‘ to relief. The last is closely followed by amazement (and a little more fear) as the parent realizes that the baby could never have been able to get so far in thirty seconds.

Star Trek offers the dream of faster-than-light travel – I have a theory that the Enterprise was actually powered by crawling babies.

It isn’t as difficult to keep track of a walking child. At least, not at first. They never get very far, and usually fall every few feet. Even if you can’t see them, you can follow the thuds. At this stage, parenting is shockingly a lot like this [keep the man balanced by moving your mouse left and right].

As he gets better at walking, it’s not so much a matter of keeping track of Ian as it is keeping up with him. You don’t even need to turn your head for him to disappear; one second you’re reading to Ian, the next you’re reading to an Ian-shaped cloud of dust.

I guess my point is that, for the first few years, parenting is a lot of guiding and catching and tugging and moving and nudging and blocking. Which is ironic, because I’m terrible at sports.

Considering his rough corralling, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised now that Ian has become a fair handler himself.

Last week I came home from work, and Ian greeted me at the door. I had barely taken off my coat when he grabbed a handful of my pants and started dragging me…somewhere. He dragged me through the living room and hallway, and into the den. ‘What,’ I asked. He took my hand, pulled me to the floor, and placed a wooden train into my hand.

Okay. I knew what Ian wanted the moment he started moving toward the den. But it’s not always so obvious.

Once Kelly and I were in the kitchen, and Ian started pushing her toward me. They stopped in the middle of the floor, and he ran to me and started pushing me in her direction. He wasn’t satisfied until we were hugging. Aw!

So far, life with Ian has been a lot of me pushing him in one direction or another, either to show or to guide. Now he’s not only discovering on his own, but he wants to show us what he’s found! Better yet, he wants us to take part.

Right now Ian believes me when I say that I don’t know where his bedroom is, and that I need him to show me. As long as he’s willing to lead, I’m willing to follow.

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