walking out

Today it is 70 degrees, sunny and breezy.

So Charlie put on his shorts

and I wore my yellow shirt and we walked to the park.

Charlie walked there all by himself. All by himself, that is, with A LOT of directional help from me.

Walking with a one year old is a unique sort of adventure.

We followed no path; no straight lines. We meandered back the way we had just come.

We crawled after pine cones under the bushes. We turned around because it was more interesting behind us.

We chased leaves that were skidding across the pavement.

We did not stay on the side walk.

Along the way we saw a bird and a school bus. And every time a car drove past, Charlie would say "brrrrrbb" under his breath.

After exploring so much on the way, getting to the park was almost anti-climactic.

There were so many pieces of bark I wouldn't let him eat. He kept picking it up and looking at me, then pantomiming putting it in his mouth.

At which point I would say, in my stern Mommy voice, "No Charlie, don't put it in your mouth." Then he would fling those wood chips down, bend over and pick up more, as if he hoped maybe I was just prejudiced against that particular handful and he would get the go ahead with another.

I also wouldn't let him lick the slide, or bite the bolts that were holding the swing supports together. (Such a mean Mom, I know!)

He walked all the way home too. When he got home he had dusty brown-streaked hands, a scratched knee from crawling on the cement in shorts and little pieces of bark stuck to his chin. He looked like SUCH a little boy!

Where did my baby go?