We are finally moved in to our new house.
While everything we own hasn’t found a home yet, we have made
some serious progress unpacking our 137 boxes.
We are finally moved in to our new house.
While everything we own hasn’t found a home yet, we have made some serious progress unpacking our 137 boxes.
And in the midst of unrolling bubble wrap and dusting furniture, an exciting event happened in our new home. Our little Emma started crawling! For real this time.
She graduated from scooting around on her tummy and pulling herself forward to balancing herself on all fours and crawling.
But that’s not enough for our daughter. Now she wants to pull herself up on anything she can get her hands on. Yes, she is officially dangerous.
After a recent afternoon nap, I found her standing in her crib, grinning from ear to ear, as happy as can be.
I can’t keep up with her progress. In my eyes, she’s still the little peanut we brought home from the hospital a little over eight months ago.
It’s hard to believe that in such a short amount of time she has learned how to do all of these amazing things.
Like shoveling food into her mouth. For the longest time, whenever I put a crumb of bread or other finger food in front of Emma, she would reach for it then promptly knock it onto the floor.
But last weekend, for the first time, she raked the bread crumb closer, picked it up with her thumb and forefinger and placed it neatly in her mouth. I was waiting for her to daintily wipe the corners of her lips with her napkin, but it didn’t happen. I guess that will happen next month.
Now that she’s mobile, she won’t sit still long to do anything like eating. She has much more important things to attend to.
When I strap her into her high chair, she arches her back in protest. But once I start feeding her, I can’t scoop her food into her mouth fast enough. She bangs on her highchair tray and slurps up fallen morsels while waiting for the next bite.
And changing her britches or getting her dressed is a contest of wills – hers and mine.
I try to hold her down with one hand while using the other to change her diaper. And it’s quite a chore if it’s of the toxic variety.
I’ve resorted to giving her a toy and letting her play on the floor while I fit her arms and legs into her clothes and snap her up. I can now understand why the five kids who used to live next door to us sometimes ran out of the house half-dressed.
Who can keep up with them?
I certainly can’t. I’m going to have to resort to baby gates soon. Our little Emma is even trying her first attempts at walking.
She pulled herself up to standing while gripping onto our couch a few days ago. She let go for a few seconds, testing her wobbly legs. Then she clapped and crowed, marveling at her newfound skills.
My husband, Chris, and I like to show off her talents, like a trained dog who learned a new trick. As if we had something to do with Emma’s crawling and standing!
She has done it all on her own. It’s truly miraculous watching this little being grow and learn and discover.
I can hardly wait to see what her newest feat will be. Actually, I can wait. I know the next step is walking. And I know I’m not ready for that.
For now, hopefully she’ll be content to scoot around after our miniature Dachsie, Lucy during our big move.
While Chris and I are trying to find a home for all of our valuables, we know we don’t have to worry about Emma. She feels right at home crawling around in her new digs.
