Yesterday afternoon I sat basking in the unseasonably glorious summer sun. My eldest was at school and the two littlies were getting up to the kind of messy mischief that I chose to ignore for fear of having to exert some energy. It’s not often that I am able to sit down for longer than 2 minutes and I was determined to eke every precious ounce of relaxation out of this rare opportunity. Birds were singing, bugs were humming, life was good.
After a solid 10 minutes of ‘basking’ I decided that I should probably check on the kids. My youngest had found a ball and was busy dribbling it around the garden whilst sucking on a dummy (pacifier) and clutching his muzzy.* It looked like fun and as usual I couldn’t resist the temptation to join in (the ball game, not the dummy-sucking). I hopped over and tackled him. Winning possession of the ball I dribbled it across the lawn and shot it right in the top left corner of the post. GOOOOAAAAALLLLLL!!! My 21 month old child stood no chance against my almighty skill. High on the buzz of winning, I could feel myself getting carried away, entirely forgetting that I have any sort of mobility issue and all that boring stuff. My body, however, did not forget. Performing an elegant twirl whilst executing a fancy manoeuvre my spazzy legs seized up and I promptly tripped over the ball, careering headfirst into the slide… Oh. My son toddled over in delighted fits of giggles and I was struck by how cute he looked with his unsteady toddler-ish walk – not too dissimilar to my own wonky walking! And a thought occurred to me – while he is busy mastering the art of walking, I am busy figuring out the art of unwalking. Huh.
*Muslin – a lightweight piece of cloth used as a blankie.