Move.

Some major changes are afoot. The little man is growing. Developing new special powers. Of particular interest to me is his quest towards self-powered locomotion.

Amon, it can be safely said, has not been in any hurry to get around; at least not on his own. For most of his life, he has found it completely satisfying to lounge on his back and has been content to let objects lying beyond his reach remain that way. The best word to describe him in this regard is 'chill'. He detests spending time on his stomach, and when he finds himself in this unsavoury position, will immediately twists his torso and flip back into the preferred orientation - supine.

Many months ago we discovered that the little layabout did seem to have a penchant for the vertical supine position known as standing. The kid loved it and was a pretty solid little Rory Calhoun. You couldn't get him to sit up or lie on his stomach but stand...oh yeah!!!

Amon enjoys a little bipedalism. If Amon is sad, help him to his feet and watch him smile. If Amon is angry, help him to his feet and watch him smile. If Amon is hungry, help him to his feet and watch him smile. If Amon is... you get the picture. Standing is Amon's obsession.

Amon is determined to walk and has done quite well developing the requisite skills. By March, Amon had learned to walk while holding a big person's hands. Recently he has started taking tentative steps while holding one hand and he is now able to slowly maneuver along and between chest high objects in our living room. However, Amon's mobility is still limited; if placed too far from an object that he can use to pull himself he is essentially a beached whale.

Until today.

While it is too early to call it crawling, I will safely label it protocrawling. After an inspiring conversation with my father where I was told how he would, if present, put my son in "crawling bootcamp", I assumed the role of drill sergeant and put Amon through his paces. I relentlessly rolled Amon onto his belly and he repeatedly righted himself like an overturned beetle. Finally, I pulled out my secret weapon, a pair of sunglasses that Auntie Dawn had left behind; Amon desires eyeglasses as much as he craves the sweet sensation of the living room carpet against his sparsely haired occipital bone. I placed him on his stomach and the sunglasses slightly out of his reach. Amon stared at them. He wanted them more than anything. Like Gollum for the Ring, Amon stretched his little arm towards his prize. I may or may not have heard him hiss, "We wantsssss it!" He kicked his feet and I put my hands behind them to give him a platform to project forward from. He pushed. I pushed. He moved forward painfully slowly. He made it. Pure delight! Victory! I took the glasses and we did it again and again and again.

Today, I think that Amon finally understood what I have been fruitlessly trying to convey to him through my adult babble for months, "The world is your oyster once you can get around it on your own." As Day and I sat at the table enjoying dinner, we watched as Amon rolled over and attempted to crawl to access a toy he wanted. I know that in a few days I'll opine about the days when Amon could be left alone for a few moments in a room because I knew he couldn't go anywhere but for now I am pretty excited about the possibilities that are about to open to him.