Walking the toddler line.

It’s a funny little age this 20 months.  The traces of baby are slowly disappearing as we race towards the world of little boy, independence and adventure.

Every day he comes out with a new word, admittedly most are unintelligible except to us, but he gets his point across with a range of gestures and hilarious facial expressions that usually have us in stitches.

In most places he demands to walk now, no longer content to just sit and watch from a pram or trolley.  He wants to run as fast as he can in every direction other than the one I am going, and then stop and examine in infinite detail tiny objects that catch his attention. (Of course within 20 minutes he is wrecked and then wants to be carried.)

So we often spend our days at places where running without limits is encouraged.  I’ve never in my life spent so many hours at parks, beaches and aimlessly wandering walking tracks.

The cheeky smile he tries to hide shows he knows exactly what he is doing.  That there is fun to be had in this game of making Mama crazy.

Everyday he decides there is a new task he can do by himself, that he no longer wants me to do for him.  Yesterday it was carrying out the rubbish (not complaining about that one!), today it is putting on his own shirt and shoes.  If I attempt to help him he pushes my hand away and fiercely points to his chest as if to say, ‘no I will do it’.

And then there are moments like this week when he was sick, or the hour before bedtime when he is exhausted (likely from all the running); when he is my baby again.  Where he insists on both arms around my neck and his cheek against mine. Where his constant need for closeness can feel suffocating and so precious all at once.

But then I remember that tomorrow he will want to run and I hold him just that little bit tighter.