After months of working on the same skills in therapy, Bugaboo finally did some belly creeping. On. His. Own!
Three little digs and pushes. Hoorays rush out of this mama's mouth. Then I moved him and made him try it again. Two more little digs and pushes. He was done after that. The boy just wanted his book. So I let him have it.
Each day when I work with my sixteen month old, I wonder if it is working. I wonder what I am doing wrong. I wonder what I am not doing that I should be doing. I wonder why most other mamas and babies don't have to work so hard for milestones. I wonder why this child of mine seems so content, even though he is not anywhere near what the experts call, "on track." And I wonder some more what I am doing wrong.
The discouragement often lingers, like the smell of burned popcorn, a constant reminder that something didn't go according to plan. But tonight I take small break from my questions and worries.
The creeping was clumsy and slow. My second born did not get very far tonight, a few inches at best. But it was beautiful. The spark that is hope is such a beautiful thing.
linking up with Imperfect Prose to share my wonderings and this celebration