And then, one day out of the blue, my boy was mobile. He never crawled, but he pulled himself up to the coffee table, saw something he wanted and took a step. We sang, we danced, we cheered, and then we cried. Because now, life as we knew it was over. After all of the blood, sweat, and tears (OK, really just tears), I really just want him to sit in one place for more than two minutes so I can finish getting dressed for work or make an entire meal. But, the newly mobile tot has other plans, and he can make it around an entire room holding onto the walls, furniture, or any other object in his path. I call it the curse of the mobile tot.
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It's really a problem of my own making. Like any parent of an infant, I spent plenty of hours on the floor playing with my son. I placed his favorite toys out of arm's reach hoping to encourage him to move for them. I cheered him on like he was winning the Super Bowl when he got on all fours for the first time. And I gritted my teeth in frustration when he never attempted to move beyond that position to crawl. I spoke with the doctors, friends, and even therapists, but nothing was getting my tot to move.