On the move

Up until a month ago, life with two little ones was quite a lot simpler.

Although the Wee Man is able to run around at breakneck speed, careering into things (usually whilst squealing loudly) I was safe in the knowledge that I could put Bubby D down and – although she was able to roll and move around in circles – generally know that she’d be found almost exactly where I’d left her, several minutes later.

Other mums would greet me at baby groups and ask the inevitable question ‘is she on the move yet?’. When I said ‘no’, they’d offer sympathy and say ‘don’t worry, I’m sure she will be soon…’.

Now, although I can understand how you might worry if your child is still sitting around at 18 months and showing no inclination to go anywhere, Bubby D is still only just coming up to 12 months old and I have to say the prospect of two mobile children – most likely heading in opposite directions at a speed I’d find it hard to match – is not something I was really champing at the bit for.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying I don’t want my children to meet their milestones. Just that in terms of getting around, I’m quite happy for Bubby D to take her time.

But then, when my brain had almost fooled me into a false sense of security, Bubby D decided it was time to be on the move. A bit of intent other-baby-scrutiny, a bit of rocking, a bit of bottom wiggling and then up she pushed, wriggled her legs around a bit, and she was off!

BAM.

Immobile to into-the-cupboards before I even had time to blink. And then she pulled herself up. And then, she attempted to climb the stairs…

Cue I’m-not-at-all-ready-for-this brain meltdown. The house is entirely baby unsafe, and with a toddler running around dropping random choking-size debris in his wake, even when I do tidy up two minutes later a veritable minefield of potential problems has arisen again.

The Wee Man’s pirate obsession isn’t really helping either. ‘Yaaar, Shiver Me TIMBERRRSS’ he howls at Bubby D, leaving a trail of enticing shiny ‘gold doubloons’ for her to follow and attempt to stick in her mouth.

It’s amazing how quickly you forget the perils a small mobile baby can inevitably locate at every given opportunity. Coming to give Bubby D her one year check the health visitor was scanning the room, taking in the discarded raisins littering the floor, the tangle of wires by the television; the cold, bare, unforgiving stone of the fake fireplace area and the multitude of cupboard doors with tiny handles that keep unscrewing themselves and I suddenly realised that I’ve grown used to a mobile child that listens when you say ‘no’ (well, mostly) and completely blocked from my brain that time where a gleeful baby will grin at you saying ‘no’ and then mischieviously stuff their face with whatever item you were attempting to dissuade them from eating, before clamping their mouth shut and flatly refusing to let you remove the aforementioned unsuitable object.

So, given that Bubby D is only going to get faster and more adventurous, the only answer is clearly to investigate the invention of a magic baby (and toddler) proofing machine.

Or at least to track down the vacuum cleaner, anyway.