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Our little star finally cut her first two teeth, the
lower central incisors; she is now not just removing toys from bins or baskets,
but replacing them as well, and she has caught on to using a straw. She can
sign “more,” and holds her toy phone up to her ear and says, “hello.” She
continues to listen well to our redirection and stern-voiced NOs. The gal
appears to get it.
In terms of being mobile, she has become an upright
walking human in a matter of days. The transition was light-speed. On August 30th,
she took her firsts steps, just a few days later she took steps that were
unprompted. As of today, Lucille can walk long stretches (think the length of
the hallway, or from one room to another), before collapsing on her tooshie. We
are slack-jawed, wonderstruck parents.
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On a recent lazy Saturday, Lucy and I visited a very cool
venue called the Toy Lending Library, an indoor play space, run by a cooperative
of volunteers in the basement of a local church. Kids can check-out toys, much
like they would in a traditional library. We had a blast, but the time spent
there that afternoon was particularly memorable. There was a learning moment
for me as a parent while Lucy was traversing and attempting to navigate a ramp
and some stairs in the baby section. She’d never encountered a ramp of any sort
and my initial instinct was to step in and turn her body so that she could
understand how to crawl down it. Instead, I opted not to interfere and allowed
her the opportunity to figure it out on her own. I was channeling Pamela
Druckerman’s account of French parenting in Bringing
Up Bébé,
if you will. Sure enough, she was able to deduce that she could scoot down the
ramp backwards while on her belly. I continued the hands-off posture when she
attempted the stairs.

My daughter is my teacher, and that day she taught me to
trust in her. To be there should she fall, but to allow her the chance to solve
a problem, to fail, and try again. Who would have thought a two foot ramp, and
a set of three stairs would be ripe with such enlightenment – for the both of
us.
Happy eleven months, my sweet Lucille.
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