G is walking.
Walking! On Monday he was freestanding and yesterday he was taking one step at a time and now he takes two steps before lowering down to surer stabilities and what if he takes three steps tomorrow?
Walking. Surely that means we're only days away from the moment when I can ask him to make me a sandwich, or at least to bring me the power cord to my laptop, and then it's easy street, baby.
The thing that's crazy isn't the march of time, or that he's getting so big (though he is). He will, after all, be a year old next week. It's that I'm standing at the precipice of a long-held vision. From the time we made the life-swirling decision that yes, we would have children, I've had an image imprinted on the screen of my mind of three kids, holding hands, backlit by afternoon sun or the glow of my dreams: three bobbing silhouettes like steps, one shorter than the other than the other, connected like a daisy chain. But instead of stems and blossoms, there are their arms and their heads, and they walk along. Where they're going, I don't know, but they're going along together.
And any day now I just might see that vision incarnate.