This morning I was sitting next to Amon while he shimmied his way around the furniture. He was sliding along the edge of our grey-blue womb chair and performing his usual octopus like grasping and searching; his hands in constant motion attempting to find the next item or cranny to grasp so that he might tread on new ground.
During Amon's 'acts-of-conquest' I try my hardest to become a trapeze artist's safety net; always at the ready in the event that the great standing stunt goes wrong. On one or two occasions I have failed in my duties and Amon has performed some tear-inducing tumbling.
Amon stood facing the side of the chair, his hands on the lip of the armrest to keep him upright. I watched him swivel on his left foot so that he faced me. Now a tripod, he held a fistful of upholstery in his right hand and his left arm swivelled on its axis acting as gyroscope. I suspected that the left hand would soon be extended in my direction; an order to be his chariot, so that he might propel himself away from the growing dullness of the space occupied by the chair.
Instead he walked. I don't know exactly how many steps; Maybe five or six little ones. He walked!
"Day! Day! He walked! He walked by himself!". She ran into the room and I placed him standing a foot and a half from me. Again he walked. And again and again.
We were ecstatic. I was in tears. I was so excited, so proud of him. I don't know exactly why but these little steps seemed so massively monumental to me. I guess it was just an awesome moment; the culmination of so much effort and determination on his part to make it be. I feel pretty lucky to be his dad.
