“When does a baby become a toddler?”
Some mama friends and I were wrapping up an evening out. We were lingering over our wine or brownies (or, in my case, both) while we waited to pay the check. And I asked this question, which had been on my mind lately.
Peeper pulls herself up with a little leverage from the futon, book shelves, the dresser, the fridge, practically anything. And she cruises along the furniture to get to a book or the remote control when it’s beyond her reach. She also loves “walking” while holding our hands—she can step all the way down the hallway in mere seconds. Kid is fast.
Then last week, she stood up on her own. She was climbing on Eric when she propped herself up and then let go of him altogether. She stood like that for a good long while, at least in baby time, before lowering herself back down.
It may be months before she consistently stands and then walks—the milestone that marks the transition between baby and toddler, so say my mom friends.
But I’m so not ready to have a toddler. Or rather, I’m not ready to not have a baby.
Peeper is already outgrowing her tiny self anyway. She almost always squirms away when I try to snuggle her. She shares—the other day in the park, she gave me the leaf she was playing with, let me hold it for a moment, took it back and then gave it to me to start the cycle all over again. And she’s developing a sense of humor: She thinks it’s hilarious when I mimic her, like when I chew on her sock (one of her favorite pastimes).
Don’t get me wrong, I love this growth. How could I not fill with wonder when my daughter proudly shows me the stalk of grass she just discovered?
The other night as Peeper played with a stack of magazines, I told her that even when she’s a toddler, a pre-schooler, a kindergartener and, hell, a 30-something, she’ll always be my baby.