Yesterday I went to a girlfriend's house for a play date with her daughter and another mutual girlfriend and her son. The boy, Cevan, is four months older than Harper and the girl, Lucy, is only three weeks older. But what a difference that three weeks makes! Cevan was busy pulling himself up to a standing position from available piece of furniture while Lucy, who has just learned to crawl in the last couple of days, was happily motoring all over the living room. That is, everywhere that wasn't blockaded by various forms of barriers haphazardly placed by her parents in a desperate (and futile) attempt to keep her contained.
For the first time ever I am happy Harper has not caught up to them. I have seen the future and it includes safety locks, electrical outlet plugs and encasing our entire home in bubble wrap. We are also looking into purchasing a toddler-sized hamster ball.
That evening, after we got home, I put Harper on our bedroom carpet with a couple of toys while I went to put in a load of laundry. When I came back, this was where I found her:
Yes, that’s under our bed. Doesn't she look tickled pink? She should be, she was a good five feet from where I left her. In fact, it was only after I came back in the room that she wriggled out enough from underneath the bed to flash me a big smile, then she wriggled right back. I had to pull her out by her chubby back legs. Her inch-worm/rolling combination, as it turns out, is very effective at getting her around.
And so it begins.