Crawlspace

Josh is crawling now. He's still a little awkward at it--he sways and rocks some as he attempts to sync the movement of hands and knees--but he manages to move forward with frightening efficiency. I almost want to test him for steroids.

With his newfound mobility comes great pride--and fear--for both parents and child. From Josh's perspective, his horizons have just expanded considerably. Now that he can explore the world, he's realizing that there is, in fact, a world to explore. As he crawls, it's easy to see the look on his face that says, "Hey, I can get around now! Neener neener neener!" But like a superhero that uses his powers for the first time--powers he didn't know he had--Josh also seems spooked by his ability to move using his own hands and legs.

As for his parents, we're naturally very psyched that he's crawling. It means he's developing on schedule, and we couldn't be more pleased (and relieved) by this. And of course we're also nervous. His bigger world has bigger dangers from which he needs protection, and we can only pray that we'll be able to keep him safe from himself. In doing so, I also pray that we'll be able to keep him safe from us. By this I mean that I hope we don't become so overprotective that we deprive him of the minor bumps and bruises he needs to sustain in order to learn about his bigger world. I hope we find the right balance between mommy and daddy's loving arms and the School of Hard Knocks.

So Joshua, go forth and conquer. Explore your world. Mommy and daddy will be right there next to you, probably with a video camera in your face, ready to give you a hug when you need it.

Close Encounters of the Jack Kind

My wife and I were recently flattened by a fun little microbe we caught when we toured a local day care center. This thing came at us like a hurricane and its DNA instructed my body to do things you only see on America's Funniest Home Videos - Effluvium Edition. I'm pretty sure it was a variant of ebola.

I suspect we caught this mutant virus specifically from a proto-baby named Jack. He was an interesting looking infant who had big eyes, no hair, and wrinkled, pinkish skin. He could easily be mistaken for Bat Boy. (I know every child is beautiful, and that Jack's parents love him just the way he is, and God bless them for it, but I hope their rabies shots are current.) We almost stepped on the vaguely mammalian Jack when we entered the baby care area. He was flat on the floor, slithering on his tummy, just behind the entry gate--presumably hunting for insects and other small prey. Any way you cut it, this poor child is clearly an errant twig on homo sapien's evolutionary tree.

The first thing I noticed about Jack was that he was oozing mucus from nearly every pore of his body. When he crawled--and I'm totally serious here--he left a noticeable trail behind him, just like a snail. I wasn't sure if I should feel sorry for him or call Animal Control.

The day care staff didn't seem too concerned about Jack's prolific drippings. Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for it: perhaps his parents were mollusks, I thought, or he was pupating. Still, I assumed Jack was sick and I wasn't going to take any chances. I knew I had to keep my son away from...

Too late. Before I could finish taking a picture of Jack with my cell phone to send into Weekly World News, Josh grabbed a slobbery, glistening toy ball from Jack's hand and put it in his mouth. (At least I think it was a ball. I suppose it could have been an egg sack, as Jack appeared to be spawning during our visit.)

Josh was exposed, and now the wait was on. He had not yet been sick in his eight months of life, and though we knew our luck would run out, we were dreading his first illness. Would it now be upon us, thanks to Gelatinous Jack? Well, Josh did get sick, but it wasn't that bad. He was fussier than normal for about a week, and was definitely fighting something, but for the most part he emerged unscathed from his encounter with Jack. He dodged a bullet.

My wife and I weren't so lucky. The bug that caused Josh some mild discomfort almost sent me to the hospital in writhing agony; my wife didn't fare much better. Happily, it was rather short lived, and we're feeling human again now that we're on the tail end of it. We're emerging from the cave.

Watch your back, though, because Jack could be, too.