William the master librarian

We've had a couple of big milestones happening here lately.

One you're already aware of, which is Andrew walking. Just in the last two weeks, he's really taken to it. He can walk across an entire room now, and he can even walk and drink out of a sippy cup at the same time. He's very very proud of himself, too.

Of course, whenever I want to record him walking or show him off to someone else, that's when he plunks down on the floor. Or clings to my legs and buries his head in my knees. I can see people thinking, "Aww, she thinks he can walk. That's so sweet."

He CAN, people. He really can!

But the other big milestone is something that is near and dear to my book-lovin' heart. William got his very first library card yesterday.

Or, as he puts it, "I'm the newest member of the Nashville Public Library!"

He's been interested in getting his own library card ever since we ran into his friend Zoe at the library, and she was wearing her library card on a lanyard around her neck. So yesterday, when I was picking up a few books I had on reserve, he asked about getting his own card.

I gravely told him about what a big responsibility it is to have a library card. I noted that he'd have to remember to bring the books back before the due date, and he couldn't lose them either, or he'd have to get money out of his piggy bank to pay for them.

William looked a little concerned. He said, "I don't know...Maybe I'm not ready..." and the librarian, who was typing up our application, said, "I've almost finished it, honey." And she snapped the new card onto a lanyard and presented it to him. He put it on and grinned. A big happy grown-up grin.

"I'm a master librarian* now!" he said with great relish.

He checked out five books with his new card, since he already knew how to do it. (I always let him use my card to check books out with the barcode scanner.)

Somewhere on my iPhone, I have a photo of him holding up his shiny new library card, which is hanging from his very own orange lanyard, and a copy of one of the newest Magic Treehouse books. He looks a little, er, interesting, because his teacher had painted his face to look like Spider-Man at daycamp, but about half the paint had rubbed off. But even with the vestiges of facepaint, you can still see how excited he was to have his own library card.

(*Refers to Jack and Annie, the main characters in the Magic Treehouse series of books.)

Boys in Plaid

In case you ever wondered what things were like here on a typical afternoon, here's a quick peek.



Okay, so this is a propaganda photo. It's not always this smiley here at 4 p.m. And about a minute after I took this photo, there was some hollering. Then there was more smiling. Then more hollering. And more smiling. And more hollering...and, well, you get the idea. It's like the weather in New Orleans. If you don't like it, just wait five minutes.

But believe it or not, I didn't even dress them in more-or-less-coordinating outfits on purpose. But I was pleased after the fact to discover it. Guess I was just in a plaid mood this morning.

We have...walking!

For the past eight or nine days, Young Master Andrew has been taking his first few steps.

That's right. We have walking! At last! At long last!

But, of course, it's really just preliminary walking. It's that adorable staggering that all toddlers do when they're still trying to get their sea legs. Sometimes he takes as many as four or five steps before pitching forward into your arms, while other times, he just takes one and then sinks slowly to his knees.

It's always adorable, though.

Andrew's a smart guy. He knows that if he really needs to get somewhere, crawling is still his best bet. So I can't take him places and set him down on his feet and expect him to stay like that. He's still much more likely to drop to all fours and make a break for it that way.

On Sunday, I gamely tried to drop him off in the nursery room at church that's designated for the walkers. Andrew's not a big fan of the little baby nursery, and he knows when that's where we're headed. He always, always starts to cry as we resolutely make our way down the hallway. David's theory is that he's too mature for that room and all the little baby toys. He's used to playing with William's toys, after all. There's no Batcave in the Lamb Room.

But the nursery ladies looked doubtful.

"But he's been taking all these steps!" I protested.

They looked unconvinced.

"I just think he might be happier in here now," I tried again. "He really is walking some now."

More doubt.

I decided to play my ace.

"And you all know who is big brother is and what he's like," I added. "If he can handle William, I think he'll be okay in here."

It worked. They let me put Andrew down by the train table, and I escaped.

Of course, when I returned to pick him up, he was back in the baby room again. One of the ladies told me that he got upset when one of the other kids started to shriek and cry, so they brought him back into the other room. I guess I could understand that.

So we'll be working extra hard on walking so Andrew can get promoted up to the nursery with the cooler toys at church. And I would be lying if I didn't also admit that I won't miss all the stains on the knees of all his clothes from crawling.

But we're getting there. He's already much steadier on his feet than he was even a few days ago. It's happening.