Note to self. When I become nostalgic for Elliot at ages 13 months (when he started walking) and his pre-verbal days like now, also remember how difficult it was to watch him. I must follow him around, wherever he wants to go, and hover in order to protect him from falling.

During his first month or two of walking, he did not know he could fall. So he would do things like step down a ledge and fall, hurting himself. I could not turn my head for a moment.

Now that he’s been walking almost 4 months, he now l knows not to step down large ledges, but he still falls all the time. Yesterday, he fell into the rock bed at the Cordilllera house while trying to get rocks to throw in the stream (he loves doing this hour after hour). I can turn my head for a moment, but then he steps in a big mud puddle up to his knees.

Following him around, guarding him, protecting him is rewarding in that I get to see what interests him and what doesn’t: he LOVES to be outside and exploring things in nature: rocks, sticks, the red berries at Cordilllera, ponds, streams, the little mouse that Chinle injured before I scolded her. In Littleton, it’s the rocks thrown into the TrailMark pond, the toys in the backyard like bubbles (he LOVES bubbles), balls to throw to chinle, rocks to drop into the grill over the basement window, and last but not least: watering the lavender plants with his little watering can.

But to not forget how much work it is. It is more tiring than FoxyProxy, Nasdaq, S&P Global, and working out at the gym. It is more tiring than anything I’ve done; even Max was not this tiring.

Karolina and I talked about that. She agrees that we could plop Max in a corner with some toys, and he’d sit there and play alone for quite some time. Elliot won’t do that. He would get up and wander around, curious, exploring, getting into things — bumping his head and falling.