The Rush for my Girl to Walk, then the Need for Her to Halt!

I was dying to see my little girl walk from the moment she started to crawl. Even before, when she began to roll over and we'd continuously flip her onto her back so that she could see more than just a close-up of her mat. Her cousin, six weeks her junior, was streets ahead in this regard. He pulled himself up quicker, he walked while holding the couch quicker, he stood on his own quicker and, ultimately, he walked quicker. He was chasing around after the ball with his older brothers before we knew it. While I was so happy to see him doing it, I was so eager for her to follow suit; if not in as much of a rough and tumble manner.

We’d go on family days out and I’d encourage her to follow his lead. The stubborn, bossy, mummy’s-double that she is however, it was always going to happen in her own time. She always had everyone else to do her bidding for her, and my biggest worry was as I pictured myself carrying her around during a holiday that we had booked for when she was around 16 months old. I needn’t have worried however, as at around 14 months she stood on her own for the first time and was walking less than a week later.

From there she hasn’t stopped and, on many occasions, I’ve rued wishing for her to walk so quickly. I went from there to praying for her to sit down, if only for 30 seconds, to let me catch my breath. This was never more apparent than on the aforementioned holiday, where I spent more time following her as she explored every crevice of the hotel than I did by the pool. I exaggerate, as regular swimming lessons meant that she has a relatively large appetite for swimming, and I do love her hunger to learn. It would have been nice to spend more time with everyone on the sun beds, though.

We’ve been lucky in that she is somewhat overly cautious for a two-year-old. She’s always stopped as she has reached the kitchen steps (well, nine times out of ten) or at the open front door (don’t worry, she’s never been out of our sight when the door has been open!). She usually waits for an adult before climbing the stairs and is very careful not to hit her head while climbing into her cage (only joking!). Although, you wouldn’t think she was so careful if you’d listen to my wife who, dramatic as she is, tended to panic when she approaches the steps leading down to the kitchen or when she gets between myself and a riverbank almost 20 metres away.

Overall, taking her out has become quite the chore at times. Not only does she refuse to be held for more than five minutes, but she screams like a banshee as we merely attempt to put her in the pram. It’s gotten to the point that we don’t even take it out of the boot when entering a shopping centre or heading over to the park, with both taking twice as long as they used to, if not longer. Nonetheless, supermarkets are a different story, as she quite enjoys sitting in the trolley, particularly as we allow her to have (pr bribe her with) a snack halfway around.

Then there’s her balance, and her insistence that she runs everywhere. We must hear a thud and a cry at least five to ten times a day, as she falls over everything from her feet to her dinner table. This isn’t helped by the fact that, within an hour of waking up, the floor is filled with her toys. Plastic and wooden fruit coat the floor as her teddies, dolls and crayons take up the remaining space; all of which provide her with obstacles and potential hazards. She rarely looks down as she navigates the bottom floor of the house. Despite all of this, and everything that I’ve mentioned above, watching my girl grow and seeing her run around like a mad woman is one of life’s great joys.

By Calum Dewsbury