And we're off!

Tuesday night after dinner I was puttering around in the kitchen when Todd called me from the other room. I turned the corner to the hallway, and there was Micah, walking. He walked to me, back to his dad, back to me, back to his dad. And he's been on the go, off and on, since then.

My favorite part is how he walks exactly like a zombie: shuffling, stiff-legged gait, arms held out in front of him. He's smiling the entire time, though. And just as he comes within reach, with a shriek of glee he gives up the last few steps and throws himself at you, trusting you to catch him. There's nothing like the feeling of watching your grinning baby toddling towards you at top speed.

So there we are. Milestone. Micah walked at 14 months and 19 days. And here the days of peace officially ended.

(Or maybe that was back in September 2008?)

I honestly think all the running around of the past weekend had a lot to do with it. For Thanksgiving we visited Todd's family in Knoxville, and Micah had a blast for every non-nap-time moment of the trip. He spent most of the days outside with his Papa, pushing his walking toy up and down the driveway and road. They must have walked at least a couple of miles. The rest of the time, he was crawling up and down their stairs inside. They're wooden stairs with open risers, and I spent every second of his adventures right behind him, resisting the urge to pounce every time he slipped a little. I try to be a pretty easy-going, non-hyper parent, but even so, letting the baby climb the stairs of death without interfering unduly was a big event in my just-relax-already parenting method.

To go along with the improved mobility, we also have the advanced temper tantrum. Micah has now entered a charming new phase in which, when displeased, he throws himself to the ground and howls. If you're holding him, he wiggles, thrashes, kicks, arches his back, throws back his head, claws, and slaps until you let him go. Then he throws himself on the floor. And ya'll, let me just say, I have a Very Hard Time dealing with it with patience. The other day he caught me across the face, and I swear, I was right back to looking for a woodchipper. I'm trying to figure out a new strategy for dealing with Rabid Badger Baby - preferably one that doesn't involve duct tape - because when that shit goes down, I need to have a PLAN, people. Otherwise, someone's gonna end up in the dryer, and I outweigh the little jerkface by at least a hundred pounds.

But it's not all tantrums and screaming. Actually, most of the time, Micah's in a pretty incredible stage. He's talking more, and always pointing at things with his question sound. He brings us books, then turns around and scoots into our laps so we can read to him. He laughs like crazy if you toss him into the pillows on the bed. He gets behind his push toy and zooms at things at top speed with a maniacal grin on his face. He shrieks with delight when the dog licks him, and he's intent on one day catching a cat. He is obsessed with bouncy balls and kick balls and basket balls and exercise balls and anything even remotely resembling a ball (the moon is a big hit). He loves to climb, he snuggles, he sleeps all night. He is just awesome, in nearly every way, and our lives right now are so, so good.