For starters, we officially declare Sunday May 4 as the day the boy started to walk (see video below).
Or at least spent more time and distance on two legs than he did on all fours.
As with all things Watkins, it all started with a girl. Or an older woman at least.
The lad had been down at Pt Leo, watching mum and dad attempt to catch ripples with a Trigger Bros. demo board. Given the complete lack of waves, Mike was prolly a tad bored.
So he took a few more steps than usual; flat, firm-but-not-concrete sand being a good surface for such things.
Afterwards, as is your want when you've paddled (as opposed to surfed) for about an hour, mum and dad wanted food-as-fuel. A.k.a greasy burger from "Pittys" at the Point (when will they get the buns right?).
They entered. There was a lady.
"Ohhhhh aren't you a cutey....How old is he?" she said as he went into typical Mike seduction mode.
"One... two weeks ago" replied mum.
"Does he take steps?" she asked
"Oh, a few when he can be bothered..."
And with that he smiled, turned, and proceeded to walk from one end of the shop to the other.
Seriously.
Then coo'd and eye-lid-batt'ed at the lady a little more and paced over to the door and tried to head off for a stroll round the block.
"Oh.... he's pretty good isn't he. Mine didn't walk till 15 months".
Mum and dad just tried to act cool while somewhat disbelievingly watching the show.
All this appears to be part of international (or at least the Baghdad end of Hampton) "I wanna do it myself" week.
Like eating. With a spoon.
Yes, he's been grabbing handfuls of stuff and shoving it in his gob for ages, but suddenly he wanted an implement.
At first he tried to put solid stuff on his plastic spoon and then swing it towards his mouth. Which on most occasions was more like firing a trebuchet than feeding, but it was obvious what he was trying to do.
So we gave him mush again - just like when he was a little boy - the idea being that if he had something that'd stick to the spoon it'd have an increased probability of actually making it all the way into his mouth and hence he would be less likely to die of starvation and us of impalement on a particularly pointy bean.
And in the mush went. To his mouth that is.
He was so stoked he just about screamed the house down in delight.
Feeding himself, just like mum and dad... well, if mum and dad grapsed their eating utensils like a gearshift on a semi-trailer, bagged the outside of their face with the food in preparation for shoving it into their mouth, spoon facing down.
But apart from that, just like mum and dad.
That said, when he cant do things his way he's discovered {gulp}...
Tantys.
Where the hell did he learn that??
The past week have seen the first real gen-ew-ine dummy spits. (Only he has never used a dummy.)
Case in point.
On the Sunday trip down the coast he discovers the nose bag full of food.
In goes the arm, out he throws the Ryvitas, his spoon, a jar of Mr Heinz baby-muck, a face washer, a Pink Lady apple (is there any other kind for eating raw - seriously?)... and emerges standing bolt upright. With a banana.
Dad: "Sorry matey, you've already had one - thats for after lunch. Here, give it to me..."
He slowly turns, pulls himself up to full height, and gives "the look" {i.e., Fugg off dad - finders keepers, I saw it first, law of the play jungle and all that...}.
Dad reaches over and takes the 'nana.
Oh boy.. thats it... head drops to the ground (while bum is still up in the air), body falls sideways and lands {thump} on the ground, grizzle turns to wail, starts rolling about on back like some demented morteined giant blowy. Right as a nice couple emerge and want to sit in the chair opposite for a bit of peace and quite and bay views.
Its somewhat hard to say "get over it" to a kiddie.
"Geez mate,.. its only a 'nana..."
But then again, it is international "I did it my way" week.
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