Little feet

A few of my favorite things...

Well, sounds, more specifically.

"Squeak-Sqoink, squeak-sqoink, squeak- sqoink, squeak-sqoink..." 

For the past two days Reagan has officially spent more time on her feet, than crawling on the floor. She lives for praise! The kids still clap for her when they see her walking, and she's gotten more bold. She mastered the complicated, yet very necessary, "Mid-walking Directional Change."  She'll walk towards you with her arms open wide and a sly little smile. Just as you are about to sweep her into a bear hug; she waddles around in the other direction. Looking back mischievously.  Seeing her walk fills me with pride and makes me mushy somewhere deep in my tummy. 

7 and a 1/2 weeks ago, when we were still in Ethiopia, I tried setting her down on the floor next to me after I had been holding her in my lap. I turned to say something to Jason and, "smack!" her face slapped the floor as she fell over.  She didn't cry. "Ok, that was weird," I thought. "Maybe she just lost her balance." Later that day I sat her down, and once again, she tipped over. That time I felt kind of mean. When I tried walking with her and holding her hands...her little feet dragged along.

She was a little behind.

She could sit up. And, she could pull herself to standing. She just had muscles made of spaghetti. Or injera. Her equilibrium seemed like it was always spinning and ready to topple over.

So! Today and yesterday she has reminded me of a geriatric patient trying to escape from home. In a good way. She shuffles along on the carpet with a grin as big as her heart. And, when she's on the tile, her feet make the funniest sound I've ever heard. Just like Squidward's tentacles in Spongebob.   

Also, nowadays, when she falls down. She cries. She looks for me. I pick her up. She knows the process. She knows someone will be there to comfort her. She signs, "pain." She knows I'll kiss it away.

"Squeak-Sqoink, squeak-sqoink, squeak- sqoink, squeak-sqoink..."

A lovely sound.