Avram has decided that, since he is now a big two year old guy, it is time for him to start walking. Almost out of nowhere, he is suddenly toddling across the living, unsteadily bounding down the hallway. He holds his hands straight out in front of him, like a zombie, and occasionally slaps his hands together in one loud clap as if the joy of independent movement is just too good, too sweet to be true.
I am still getting used to seeing him come strolling around a corner, or to not instinctively dive for him when I feel him let go of my finger. You can always hear him coming: not because of his footsteps, but because he physically cannot take more than a couple strides without releasing a shrill of joy.
He is so very, very pleased with himself.
Avram has also decided that, since he is now a big two year old guy, that it is time for him to make his own decisions. Seemingly overnight he has started throwing fits when we try to redirect his activities: throwing his body on the ground, hitting, biting, chucking his food across the kitchen if we're not cooperating with his plan. It's almost comical to see the little wheels in his head turning, how he will wait until Jason and I look before he does something he's not supposed to. Or how after being told "no" he moseys over to give me a big hug.
All three of his therapists are thrilled to see his independence and desire to assert his will. I smile and nod. Oh yes, it's so fantastic!
I know that a child's first steps bring a lot of tears for parents: happy and sad. I thought they would for me. But oddly enough, I haven't cried. Happy or sad tears.
Maybe it's because I've got the whacky pregnancy hormones, maybe it's because he still can't quite stand still by himself (it's easier for your muscles to stay in action that to hold themselves in place) so he still needs a lot of help.
Mostly, I think it's because I'm just so darn proud my whole body feels like it will explode.
This boy they told me would undoubtedly be completely reliant on us for his entire life, this boy has started escaping the house through the screen door. This boy has learned how to carry objects from one room to the next: leaving me to find my nail polish underneath the living room rug. This boy is fighting to get out of my arms whenever we are outside so he can show the world how fantastically his skinny little chicken legs work.
I'll probably cry when he goes to preschool, or the first night he sleeps in his big boy bed. Or the first time I see him after this new peanut arrives, because I know that Avram will suddenly seem like a full grown person.
But for now, I'm just making those happy screeches right along with my buddy: we are so proud to prove the world wrong, so proud of each wobbly, toddling step. So proud of how far we have come, how hard he has worked, how tough his skin is.
The joy is almost too much to bear.
My big two year old guy.