I have been thinking of this quote from Jonathan Safran Foer quite a bit lately.

No baby knows when the nipple is pulled from his mouth for the last time. No child knows when he last calls his mother “Mama.” No small boy knows when the book has closed on the last bedtime story that will ever be read to him. No boy knows when the water drains from the last bath he will ever take with his brother.

I used to have a routine of writing while I rocked Myron to sleep. At one point a few months ago, he decided he was done with being rocked to sleep. Where he used to fall asleep in my arms, he then started to push himself down. There was actually a phase where he would like to hang on the edge of the rocking chair between my legs, with his feet dangling in the air. He fell asleep like this, a slumbering acrobat, and I would pull him up by the armpits and place him in the crib, trying not to disturb him too much. Then the next night, he would do it again. After a while, he then wanted to touch the ground with his feet and read books and drink bottles while standing between my knees. Then he would get down on the floor, scoop up his books, and crawl through them like piles of leaves. When he started to tire out, I would then scoop him up like a cat and place him in the crib. The next time, if I tried to rock him to sleep, he would immediately push himself down and crawl on the floor. So we all have new routines now.

Myron is working very hard to learn how to walk. He will push around anything that he can roll or slide to stabilize himself, and he also loves walking around the house or the street holding onto our fingers.