We Have Achieved Locomotion!
May 21st, 2003
accomplishment.
the floor next to the desk… so he scoots a bit until his head hits the
bookcase. He looks annoyed. He rolls over *TWICE* (front to back to front to
back to front) to get away from the bookcase and is back playing with the fringe
of the rug which seemed to be what he wanted in the first place. I never
observed either of his brothers using rolling as a means of getting somewhere,
only ever just changing position. But then he watches us closely and may
realize that getting yourself to the place you want to be is one of the
hallmarks of human
achievement.
Actually my theory on why
the last week of parenting Søren has seemed unusually challenging (a
run-on sidenote here: he connived his way back onto my lap, and typing that
last sentence was unusually challenging because I’m typing on an ibook and his
little fingers keep reaching the touchpad, which is much more difficult to cope
with than the mouse that the other two accessed as babes in my computer-bound
lap, because you’re typing along merrily while the cursor is changing lines).
He’s on the threshold of all these developmental leaps, like sitting up on his
own, and scooting and crawling. But that threshold is an uncomfortable and
frustrating place, and he’s taking it out on me! I think that frustration must
be a necessary component in growth and development and have developed my own
little philosophy that one of the most important abilities you can acquire is
the ability to tolerate frustration and endure discomfort to get to the next
stage in where you’re going.
Anyway,
I don’t know if this explains his sudden inability to nap for more than seven
and a half minutes. I’ve also taken the opportunity this week to leave
Søren with his father and brothers (milestone for Raven, being alone with
the three boys) to go to dinner with other mothers from Xander’s class, which
wasn’t necessarily pleasant or easy for any of us (speaking of Søren,
Raven, and me, not necessarily the other mothers from Xander’s class), but was
clearly becoming necessary to my mental stability. My new definition of halcyon
days is quickly becoming those lovely mornings when the older boys would be off
to school and Søren would doze contentedly in his swing while I indulged
myself in extravagances like, well, folding the laundry. So I repeat to myself
that it’s all temporary and will fly by faster than I like, but time does
sometimes drag when you’re trying to get the last pots and pans washed so you
can pick up the crying baby or when you’re waiting for the baby to fall asleep
so you can go finish cleaning the kitchen.
