Have I mentioned Max is walking? Its been one week, and he’s gone from one-step to full on Rugby training.
Of all days and nights that Max could have decided that he was done with life as a quadruped it was after watching my mom run. I’d like to take the credit, but I was half an hour behind her for the 20km race. He was likely bored by the time I managed to cross the finish line.
Now, Max has my genes, and he apparently has his grandma’s so simply walking isn’t enough. He’s entered into a full on training regime of squats and strength training in the form of shopping cart pushing. Oh, and shopping cart pushing…..
The kid is completely and utterly obsessed to the point of full on back-arching tantrums, tears and screams if we don’t let him push the cart. Its cute. At first. (not the tantrums the shopping cart pushing). There is Max, in his bare feet, because although we believe in shoes, we usually can’t find them and I’m still not use to the fact that he actually needs them now, waddling along the filthy shopping aisles, pushing the cart with all his might while I loop a finger in the back of his shorts thinking that that might save him from the face plant when the shopping cart excels out of his reach. It doesn’t and when he does land face first on the floor all the shoppers that had previously smiled at me thinking how cute my little guy was suddenly wonder what kind of demon mother I am making my son push the cart to the point of exhaustion that he lands on his face. Cute. And then full on embarassing when its time to pay, and I’ve taken 45 minutes to pick up milk, and as much as I love the metro, its really not my favourite place to be and I want out. There is a house to clean and dinner to make. Cute turns into full on embarassing when we go to the check out and he continues to insist on pushing. It gets even worse when I turn my attention to emptying the cart and he ploughs into the ankles of the poor lady ahead of us. All this strength training builds up an appetite, so, once I’ve wrestled him back into the cart, he grabs whatever he can – unwashed celery stalks are the nutritional supplement of choice. Once he’s got his fill he grabs a lemon and gnaws on it through its peel with his 4 razor sharp raptor teeth like its, well, anything but a lemon. This is a battle not worth fighting, so I let him win, because, well, I don’t want to interrupt the zen like wanders of the other shoppers….