One small step...

About a month ago, Jack made his big move. We had been waiting for it for some time. We expected it to happen around 12 months, because he was on time with crawling, and early with teeth and some other developmental markers. So we figured walking would be right on "schedule" (wherever the schedule comes from).

He had a little walker wagon that he loved. We encouraged him a great deal to take a step. But he was too busy climbing—on everything—to care very much. At the same time, he was getting heavy to carry everywhere that we didn't want him crawling. (We have a big boy. He is consistently at or above the 95th percentile for his height and weight. This means some people probably thought it odd that our "2-year-old" wasn't walking yet. [Yes, people have actually told me they think he's two.])

On the eve of his turning 14 months, I moved a toy, not thinking much of it. But he wanted that toy. He took a couple steps toward it. Well, it was more like a shuffle because he was in a sleep sack at that point, headed to bed, but it counted of course.

For a couple weeks after that, it was just a few steps here and there. He's a fast crawler and wasn't interested in making the switch to being shakily upright. But now that we've passed the 15-month mark, walking has moved up on his priority list. He walks at least 50 percent of the time, if not more—and a little more every day. His steps are still slightly wobbly but he's much more confident and walking greater distances than he was just a few days ago.

So now I think I can officially say that I have a walker. And a toddler. Welcome to the world of walking, little Jack!

Doing a bit of walking today


A downtown adventure

July and August are always great times to celebrate the love that my husband and I share. It was five years ago that we met and went on our first date, and four years ago that we were married.

This year, we had the luxury of an overnight stay downtown while Grandpa and Grandma kindly spent some quality time with Jack (and apparently, he didn't scream the whole time—screaming just for the joy of hearing the noise is an interesting habit he's adopted of late). To make it more of an adventure, we turned down the offer of my parent's car (let me interject that I really wanted to accept the offer, but it was more adventurous to ride public transportation I suppose).

We got kicked out of our first hotel (So sorry, a group came in last night and we overbooked) and stuck in another one a few blocks away. This is fine, because the first hotel footed the bill for the difference, which was about $140 (since we had originally booked on Priceline). Then we wandered around Granville Island, and ate dinner at a very fabulous steak place. The next day, we ate doughnuts for breakfast, had a pre-lunch at a Chipotle-type place called Steamroller (we split a burrito), strolled through Gastown and got a couple souvenir shirts for Jack, and then made our way through some very sordid streets to Chinatown in hopes of finding dim sum.

Although it was broad daylight (well, cloudy and raining and my husband got soaked because he was very chivalrous—and didn't want to get poked in the head—and let me have the umbrella all to myself) it was a little creepy and very sad to observe the lives of people who have nothing but destructive addictions. We walked right next to a rescue mission where, in an alcove on the other side of the street, a few people were huddled with big umbrellas doing drugs and shaking. Another woman on the corner was obviously very troubled and talked randomly to herself. Heartbreaking.

Arriving at Chinatown was no better, except for a soggy stroll through Dr. Sun Yat-Sen Garden. Standing on the not-so-desirable streets, we suddenly felt uncertain about which restaurant to choose for our lunch, part II. Then we stumbled upon some graffiti with these kind words: "Kill Whitey." Um, no lunch for us. We found the Sky Train, made our way back to my hometown, and visited a local mall in search of dim sum. We found Triple O's instead. Yum. By that time, we were all out of adventure and a good, old fashioned BC burger tasted just about perfect.

This may be the most adventurous date we've had. We laughed, we ate, we got wet, we ate some more, we walked miles, and we were so happy we married each other. And that's what really matters.
Me and the Gastown steam clock

One of our favorite wedding-day photos. I love my husband!

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