AKA It's About Time
“Maybe we could try walking on all fours tomorrow, see if she copies us?” suggests Zsuzsa.
Mila has begun walking on two legs, and as much as we’re overjoyed that our little girl is developing in to a fully functional human being, we’re also kind of missing her funny, lizard-esque crawl that she appears to have left behind. I mean, I realise that it would possibly hold her back with job interviews and finding a partner if she crawled everywhere as an adult, but until only a few days ago she was our little iguana. We kinda miss our little iguana.
“Yeah we should try that, but just in the house” I say.
"Obviously just in the house!"
This pang of nostalgia has been brought on by the fact that Mila is starting nursery tomorrow. She’s only going for a couple of hours initially, but still, it’s a big deal. Our baby’s growing up, right in front of our eyes and at the most frightening pace.
Slow down little lady! No need to rush!
It only seems like yesterday when our little cub couldn’t roll over and instead just lay on her back in between us in our bed like an upturned woodlouse. We spent hours trying to encourage her to turn over and were elated when she finally managed it, even though initially, it was probably an accident.
It only seems like yesterday when she tasted real food for the first time, instead of her mother’s delicious booby juice. The shocked look on her little face as she began her culinary adventure was priceless.
It only seems like yesterday when she couldn’t crawl forward and instead, just lay on her belly, desperately wagging her arms in the air like a washed up little whale.
“Come on Mila! You can do it. Crawl to Daddy.”
It only seems like yesterday when Zsuzsa showed me a video of a bemused Mila crawling after a ball at her baby yoga class, people cheering all around. And it only seems like yesterday when she worked out how to sit up for the first time very shortly after learning to crawl.
“Honey! Come quick! She’s sitting up! Oh! Too late. She’s fallen over.”
It only seems like yesterday when she rose to her wobbly feet for the first time.
“Did you see that! She just stood!”
“I did! I saw it!”
And now here she is, clumsily charging around our apartment on her two little feet, big smile on her chubby chops, often bumping in to things and occasionally falling flat on her face.
Don’t get me wrong. I love our little walking baby girl! I'm immensely proud, but I can’t help missing our little woodlouse, our little boob addict, our little washed up whale and our little iguana.
“Don’t worry honey.” says Zsuzsa. “We may have lost our little iguana, but we’ve gained the most adorable little chimpanzee.”
I consider this, and you know what? She’s right. I need to get over this and look forward rather than backwards. Mila wanders over, holding out a hand so that she can take mine and I can guide her through the flat. I take it and we meander forward from corner to corner.
“Mi ez (What’s that)?” says Mila while pointing at a wall.
“That’s a wall sweetheart.” I say.
“That’s called a table.”
“Those are my flip flops, that mummy keeps telling daddy to move.”
“I’m going to take her to the park.” says Zsuzsa.
I hand our little chimpanzee over, they leave the flat and I open up my laptop. I’ve some revisions to make to my film script following a chat with the director a couple of days ago.
Before diving in to the script I quickly peruse Facebook. I follow a group called The Dad Network, having written for them on occasions in the past. One of the group members has posted a cartoon strip and I begin to read it. It’s so poignant and hits me hard in the face like a bombardment of chopped onions.
I stop. The script can wait. I dry my eyes, close my laptop, put my flip flops on and head to the park to experience some quality time with my beloved wife and our little chimpanzee.