Step One

You're so sweet, Jett. You took your first step today.

Daddy had given you an orange to play with, which you were rolling all over the house. You and your orange made your way over to the arm of the couch, where your sippy cup was laying on it's side. You stood up, orange in hand, and tried to drink from the overturned sippy cup. (At this point I stopped folding clothes and started watching you, to see how you were going to manage standing, holding the orange, and drinking from the overturned sippy cup all at the same time). What you did was, you tossed the orange down on the ground and watched it roll to the fireplace. Then you tossed your sippy cup on the ground at your feet. You looked back to the orange, and it looked like you wanted it, so I told you to go ahead and walk on over to that orange. You looked like you were considering it, and then I was afraid that you really would walk over there - and your first steps would be on wood and granite, in front of a glass-covered fireplace. So I quickly dropped the sheet I was folding, knelt down on the carpet and asked you to walk to mama, jett, walk to mama. I held my arms out, you held your arms out, I smiled at you, you smiled at me, and you took your first barefoot step. (It was with your right foot). I leaned in, you leaned in, and then your little arms were around my neck, and it was all over, quick as a wink.

Daddy watched from the kitchen, where he was writing a grocery list. It's funny how such an extraordinary thing can happen at such an ordinary time.