Like a Tumbleweed

I mentioned yesterday that the Munchkin has worked out how to roll from one place to another, also, how he's hampered by his own need to applaud his successes along the way.

There is one instance where there simply is no time for self congratulating--when there is a mummy to keep up with.

The Munchkin is rather attached to his mum. In fact, he was quite happy to just use rolling for some gentle exploring until he realized he could use it as a means to keep Mum from getting out of his sight. It doesn't work so great when she leaves in the car-- no amount of rolling will keep up with Melbourne's inner-city speed limit. While she's in the house, though, escape is futile.

He's gotten rolling down to a fine art. It now takes him about 30 seconds to get from one side of the living room to the other, if he's in Mum-pursuit.

We discovered this, as with most things, by accident. His mum had to go to the bathroom. "Watch the Munchkin," she said.

I was in the kitchen making a sandwich. Through the big double doors, I had a pretty good view of the living room. I figured I was safe.

Luckily, I looked up from my sandwich when I heard the strange, mischievous giggling sounds from the living room. What I saw was the Munchkin rolling at what can only be described as Warp Speed right past the double doors--giggling and muttering "Mum, mum, mum!"

It isn't far between the living room and kitchen, but he'd already crossed the living room and would have made it all the way to the bathroom had he not been confounded by a corner. After another day or two's practice, corners  no longer slow him down either.

When he realized I'd caught him, he looked up, sighed and flopped.

"What are you up to?" I asked.

"Mum," he said. Which did pretty much cover it.

He wasn't done yet, though. I mean, for this kid to have survived all he has, there has to be a will of iron in there and he is certainly making that obvious lately.

As I bent to pick him up, he let out a final war cry of, "Mum!" and spun off like a horizontal Tasmanian Devil (The Warner Bros. cartoon variety). He rolled off fast enough that it was pretty darn hard to catch him. If not for the bathroom door, I'm not sure where he'd have ended up.

My favorite image, though, is the one of the top of his head and flailing arms and legs as he tumble-weeded it across the double doorways calling for "Mum."

I can't help thinking we're going to struggle to keep up with this one.

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