Spike is just starting to walk. Yes, he’s only 10 months old. He’s been cruising for awhile- using furniture to hold on to as he walks around- but now he’s starting to take those first few steps on his own, without anything to help him balance. Two steps, maybe as many as four, and then he squats down and falls forward, catching himself before he face-plants. (Truthfully, at the beginning, he didn’t know how to stop himself from face-planting, so he did a few of those at first and then quickly learned how to control the descent and stick the landing)
You might think that it might not be that exciting to watch your fourth baby start to walk. After all- been there, done that. Three other times. But if you thought that, you’d be wrong. It doesn’t lose the magic when his little face lights up as he goes, tasting freedom with each step. I swear that I can see it on his face- the knowledge that if he can only get the hang of this walking thing, he might be able to play with those other boys that are always hanging around and seem to be having so much fun.
And the best part of being the fourth baby, starting to walk? You have a whole cheering section. The other boys are so bizarrely excited about this. They cheer and clap and say, “Good job, Spike!” without any shred of sarcasm each time they witness him take a few steps on his own. If one of the boys is not in the room to witness this miracle, they will go fetch him so that no one misses a chance to see Spike try to make it.
Maybe they, too, can sense that each step takes him just a tiny bit further away from me and closer to them. To the conspiratorial brotherhood they so carefully maintain. Because, you know, brotherhood has rules and order- even when it’s created of blood. There are unspoken rules about who gets the last word, about which brother will be the one to sacrifice in times of compromise, about which brother to avoid when everyone is tired, about which brother needs the most support at any given time. It’s really fascinating to watch them build their own little society amongst themselves.
Of course sometimes all hell breaks loose in this society they’ve created and their benevolent queen (that’s me, obviously) or king must step in restore order. Like when Chuckles won’t share any of his cars even though he has SIX MILLION OF THEM. Or when Fidget refuses to run around and instead opts out of playtime to read in the corner. Or when Mini-Me was angry at Fidget the other day and tossed his My Little Pony over the fence into the neighbor’s yard (which really seems more a punishment for me, but whatever). A little while after this last incident, Fidget sat down and sighed and said to Sergeant Handsome and I:That’s the thing about brothers: sometimes they’re nice and sometimes they’re evil. Oh well!
So true, buddy. So true. But for now, I’m enjoying that they are enjoying the littlest of the brothers, and cheering for each step he takes. I hope they can aways find something to encourage in each other. Or at least learn to share. A girl can dream, right?