Grumpy Inchworm

My boys.

They’re pretty funny little guys. Timbit likes to run up and down the hall with his push cars, sometimes getting enough speed that he can lift his legs off the floor and sail behind it for some air time.

And Dingo has been watching and waiting for his moment of reckoning.

The day has arrived.

Dingo has become mobile.

But he’s so angry about it. It’s much easier when Mom packs you around. So when I make him crawl, he complains the whole time. Both of his little arms go at the same time, and drag his belly along the floor. By the time he reaches me, he’s in a fine temper.

All he wants to do is run. If you hold him up standing, he’s a happy little clam. He’s even tried to push my hands away so that he can take off on his own, but, well, gravity is a bit of a bitch. I catch him before he falls, but he’s not happy that he can’t just run around like his brother.

Me, on the other hand. I’m okay with grumpy inchworm. He’s not that quick yet.