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Baby Giggles Sample Story
Crawling, a Baby’s Revenge
By Mary Haley
Blame it on lack of sleep or a competitive spirit, but I wanted my first son, James, to crawl. One by one my friend’s babies started to move. They’d go up on all fours and rock back and forth. Then they’d pull themselves across the room. I should have realized my luck as I noticed the resemblance a crawling baby has to a shark. Something would catch the baby’s attention. Focusing in on his or her prey, the baby would move in to capture the object, oblivious to people, pets, or anything else in the way.
James started rolling at four months. That made changing him exciting. It was like putting him on ball bearings. I’d lift him up onto the changing table and he’d hold still for a moment until I’d inch away from the table, then he would roll for the edge. Sometimes I couldn’t hear his delighted giggles over the pounding of my heart.
When it came to crawling, however, he just couldn’t see the point. He’d watch politely as other babies would move around him to pick up the toy I’d put out for him. He’d roll over, make eye contact with me and start to bellow. Like the obedient first mother that I was, I would retrieve the toy or get him another.
The frustration peaked with a phone call from a good friend who had a baby six weeks younger then James.
“So, Mary, has James started to crawl yet?”
I gritted my teeth. I had come to hate that question. “Almost,” I lied.
“Be grateful he hasn’t. Caitlin has and it’s awful. Yesterday I found her on the kitchen floor with every cooking pot out. She beat them with a rattle until I though plaster would fall off the ceiling.”
That old competitive feeling welled up inside me. “Oh, James can do that. He’s quite a musician.” I winced. Why did I say that? My friend Mary played piano and sang in two choirs. I used my singing to get the dog to go outside. Genetically my kids could never beat hers in that department.
“Well it wasn’t music to my ears. Like I said, just be grateful.”
Grateful? How could I be grateful for what might be some terrible problem? Maybe he was developmentally delayed, physically incapable, or just plain lazy. Three months later James found his reason to move. The toys around him lost their luster. His eyes fell on our Old English Sheepdog asleep in the sun across the room. Without rocking, encouragement, or fanfare, he crawled over, curled up on Winston’s big hairy side, and fell fast asleep.
My second child, Clare, could roll by three months, but the experience didn’t thrill her. She had a big brother to model after, and she couldn’t see any reason why she couldn’t walk like him. She sat in the jumper, suspended from the hall closet and watched James’ every move. He’d walk by and she’d kick her legs out causing the jumper to swing back into the coats and boots, then swing forward into the hall. The more she studied him the less she made any attempt at crawling. Perhaps she considered it too babyish to bother with. As an experienced mom I didn’t encourage her.
At two-and-a-half years old James considered Clare, five months old, an annoying lump in his way. That’s why my motherly curiosity was aroused when I saw James leave Clare’s room. He held a red sand bucket that bounced against his legs as he traveled down the hall. When he saw me he tried to slip it behind his back.
I glanced down. The bucket overflowed with Clare’s toys. “James, what are you doing?”
His brows knit together, then he smiled sweetly. “Cleaning.”
I glanced down the hall, then back at him. “I think you had better return Clare’s toys. Do you know why?”
James shook his head.
“Because she’s coming to get them.”
He turned to look where I was staring.
Clare had crawled out of her bedroom and headed straight for James. Determination lined her brow as she focused on her toys. A pudgy hand grasped the carpet and she pulled her body up over her arm. She let herself flop back down as she reached out and took hold of yet another fist-full of rug. Up onto her arm then down, she came towards us, zeroing in on her brother.
James screamed and ran past her into her room. I heard the jingle of her toys hitting the floor.
Clare looked over her shoulder as he passed. She sighed, then crawled around and followed him back to her bedroom.
I bent over laughing until a terrible thought struck me. At five months she was already crawling. Lord have mercy
Last Updated 9/22/04 © Mary Haley