The Daddy Diaries: Crawling at the Speed of Light

Do you remember in the movie "The Empire Strikes Back," when Han Solo attempts several times to make the jump to light-speed but each time he engages the hyperdrive in the Millennium Falcon it only sputters and fails—until finally, near the end of the movie, it finally clicks in and they dramatically speed off into the distance?

Well, Gregory's experience of learning how to crawl has kind of been like that.

It wasn't easy and it wasn't always pretty but, like any skill, his ability to crawl was a journey that included several developmental stages along the way:

Stage 1: The Snowplow

While he quickly grasped the concept of lifting his rear, he didn't seem to consider elevating his torso at the same time. So with his head firmly planted in the ground and his butt in the air, he would push with his legs and plow his face into the carpet. This was both painful and funny to watch.

Stage 2: The Angry Turtle

The next attempt found him on his tummy where he would vigorously flail each limb in the air but make no traction with the ground, sort of like a turtle stuck on a rock. Needless to say, this used a lot of energy but made little progress.

Stage 3: Burning Man

In Boy Scouts I was taught that if I were to ever catch on fire I should "STOP, DROP, and ROLL" as a way to extinguish the flames. Gregory adapted this same strategy to his first real movement. While technically not "crawling", he would just kind of drop to the floor and then wiggle and roll himself from point A to point B. My Scout Master would be proud.

Stage 4: Boot Camp

Eventually he had all limbs working in symphony and was making actual forward progress, although his chubby little tummy still dragged on the floor. His belly-crawl looked like a soldier in basic training making his way under barbed wire so as to avoid enemy fire and find refuge in the next bunker. 

But now, after much trial and error, our son has finally got the knack of real crawling. And just like the Millennium Falcon, once it clicked it was as if he jumped immediately into light-speed and was making the Kessel Run in just twelve parsecs (sorry, more nerdy Star Wars references). But seriously, he's fast!

And now I find his mobility requires a whole new level of baby radar-- where is he and what is he putting into his mouth? It was relatively easy to watch him when he was just an immobile blob, but now if you take your eyes off him for even a few seconds, he may be in another room with who-knows-what stuffed into his cheeks.

Plus, I didn't realize how dirty our house was until Gregory started crawling into corners filled with dust bunnies or reaching for nasty bits of junk under the sofa. And I feel like I need to put a baby-sized football helmet on the kid just to keep him from continually bonking his head on pieces of furniture. Maybe I'll just cover the interior of our home with Nerf?

The real problem, however, is Wishbone. Our kitty, whom we dearly love, is a cantankerous old beast who's earned a bad reputation of being less than kind to visitors. Since the first day home from the hospital, Gregory has been trying to get at her, but Wishbone has maintained a safe distance from his grasp. But now that he's on the move, I don't know who's in more trouble—the kid or the cat? He's got quite a grip but she has claws!

But despite the new challenges, one of my favorite things to do now is to crawl around with my son, to shadow him as he guides me around the house. It's pretty cool to learn how to crawl again and observe life from nine inches off the ground. Every few feet he stops, sits upright and turns his head back to look at me. Once he's sure I'm still there, he beams a big smile before twisting back to his hands and knees and moving on. I'm not always sure where he's leading me, but I'm up for the adventure. 

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