My little girl has grown up; it’s time to send her to work in the mines. Gone is my baby. Soon she’ll be borrowing the car and bringing home dodgy boyfriends.
Yes, we bought ‘big girl shoes’; the kind she had to get measured for, with real soles and almost requiring us to take out a second mortgage.
Crazypixie has been able to walk for quite a while but up until recently she considered crawling a much more efficient way of actually getting anywhere. But she has officially evolved from quadruped to biped; walking is now her main means of transport. She toddles ever more confidently from room to room and back again, and again, and again. She’s even bringing dada for walks outside, ‘out, ope door,’ she points while clutching her hat.
In a way it’s a relief, we had been a little worried. Not about reaching development milestones on time (arse to that) but rather that she may have been spending too much time with our cats. You see, not only would she crawl everywhere but she would inevitably be carrying some thing in her mouth. And when she would be faced with dilemmas like how to eat a yummy piece of banana stuck to the leg of the armchair while holding dolly in one hand and mummy’s rather naughty negligee (I’ll tell you that story another time) in the other, she would go for the cat solution – bend down and just lick it off. She also tends to roll over to have her tummy tickled (I get the raised eyebrows from the inlaws on that one) but at least she hasn’t picked up their hygiene habits yet (cats not inlaws).
So now our little pint sized person is not only walking, she’s walking fast, and silently. No more slapping of little knees on wooden floors to give away her position, methinks the mummy radar needs to be recalibrated.
Wait a minute, I’m sure we have a spare cat collar with bell somewhere…………….that would work, wouldn’t it?