Ready? Set. Go!

She’s learning to crawl.  She lays down on the floor, pushes her upper body up and looks around.  Once she sets her eyes on her destination, she lays her chest back to the floor, stretches out her arm and slides her hip forward.  She moves quickly, dragging her belly across the carpet as she moves from one corner of the room to another. 

Often, her journey ends with banging her head off of the leg of the coffee table or nose diving into the carpet.  She sighs, looks around to see if anyone notices and starts moving again. 

As she beelines for the tile floor, the slate in front of the fireplace or some kind of power cord, she looks over her shoulder to see if we are watching.  If we “chase” her, she giggles and moves faster.  If we say “No, C.  Come back here.” She grins and keeps moving. 

If she’s not trying to find a power cord, in which to choke herself or try to chew on, she’s planning to hang out underneath something or in an obscure corner of the room.  She plays under the jumperoo for a few minutes.  Reaching up and running her fingers over the seat or scratching at the warning sticker.  Then she crosses the room and spends quality time under the swing.  Bumping her head into the seat and reacting with surprise as it moves. 

I love this stage, I really do.  Watching her discover new things and test her abilities, my heart swells with pride and adoration.  I could, however do without the constant grabbing for cords, banging of her head and trying to throw herself off of the bed.  It’s making this “keeping her alive” thing so much harder.