Somedays I fully expect Zane to stroll right across the room, tired of waiting for someone to carry or balance him. Yesterday was high energy baby day, which seems to be a growing trend. Faith was giving piano lessons while Zane and I were out in the kitchen: me putting away groceries and starting dinner, he not sitting still.
He’d sit, fidget with a toy, crawl, sit, fidget, crawl, and then set off in search of new, distant lands. The country he discovered, after a laboring crawl, was filled with new smells, strains of piano, and his mom’s voice encouraging a stranger. “This is a good land,” Zane assured himself, sitting up to spend time playing with a large tin container holding cat food. Eventually the call of the open road (hallway) would be too much and he’d answer it, crawling towards this or that, unsure of his destination but confident in its rightness.
He’d gone to the grocery store with his dad and spent the time going up and down the colorful aisles cranked around in his seat a hundred and eighty degrees, straining to face forward so as not to miss anything. At one point we were parked, Zane intently staring at something ahead of the cart, so I turned the cart around so he could stare at it without twisting himself up so. He changed the focus of his attention and remained twisted.
The grass is always greener in front of the cart.