James is spending more time on the floor lately.
He sits and plays with the truck his daddy picked out for him as a Christmas present. As he pushes it out too far, he slowly will get himself into a position where he is laying on his tummy.
From there, he finds his ways to his hands and knees. He rocks back and forth, and after a bit ends up laying on his tummy, appearing to be practicing his swim lessons on the carpet.
Anyone else flashing to Big Bang Theory where it is revealed that Sheldon learned to swim via the Internet in the living room? He is proud to have the basics on what to do, but has no real urge to actual get in water to test them. Anyone? Just me?
Okay.
So, when the rocking started, I found myself squealing and clapping hands and trying to get A to come look before he missed it all. He always arrived to watch, but didn't seem to be as excited.
Some time in the last week this has changed. He is there encouraging more, and holding his breath along with me as we wait to see if he will discover forward movement and force us to baby proof the living room.
Watching him as he watches our son and realizing that his excitement reflects mine at this little miracle we created makes me feel happier than I thought was possible.
As I sit there, holding my breath and waiting to see what happens next, I can feel my heart swell and seem to come close to bursting.
Every.single.time.
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