For the past few days, we’ve been waking up to Aaron cooing in the mornings. It’s been pretty nice. The sound of a baby delighting in his toys and surroundings is a pleasant way to start the day.
This morning, we woke up to the sounds of a frustrated baby. These weren’t the familiar sounds of a child content with the world. Oh, no, these were the sounds of a victim of some Dantean torture device.
I groggily made my way to his room, and opened the door to see what was the fuss. Aaron was on his tummy, and had backed-up to the foot of the crib, and was busily squashing himself against the railing at his feet. He was looking at the other end of the crib with great concern.
I looked at the other end, and soon realized from what he was fleeing. Toys. His favorite toys. He wasn’t intentionally backing away. He was trying to crawl to them. It’s just that he hasn’t learned “forward” yet. Both he and Maddie seem to have learned “reverse” first. And until they learn forward, every time they try to approach their toys, they end up backing away, and
getting more and more frustrated.
Who We Were Then
- Maddie (2 years old)
- Aaron (0 years old)