The Toddler Paradox: Walking

I remember waiting in anticipation as Isabel began showing signs of movement. I mean, who knew how exciting seeing your kid roll from back-to-front would be? Then came the sitting-on-all-fours-rocking-back-and-forth that would eventually become crawling. And then we waited. And waited. And waited. Her first birthday came and went, and no walking. Little did we know, walking is one of the biggest tricks in the toddler rule book.

Parents of toddlers (or older) know where I’m going with this, but for anyone that has yet to experience the joy/frustration of having a kid that can walk, let me explain.

Walking is liberating. It’s fun. It empowers our kids to explore their world and test preconceived boundaries. And it allows our children to lead us on adventures and see the world through their path.

Walking gives Isabel the confidence to throw out her own trash, help mama and papa do things around the house, fetch her own shoes, or grab a coloring book and crayons or play with her toys, whenever she wants. She can run in the backyard, play in the park, and dance to “Let It Go” (which consists of jumping around).

Walking can make lead to memorable moments like this…

But her ability to walk also makes me feel insane and sprout more white hairs when she refuses to simply put one foot in front of the other.

I’m sure I was the same as a toddler, so perhaps this is repayment for my unwillingess to walk when the last thing my parents wanted to do was hold me, but it drives. me. crazy. (Mama has also repeatedly told me she was a big fan of her stroller, so maybe it’s her fault.) I know Isabel can walk. She knows she can walk. The damn universe knows she can walk. But sometimes she flat out refuses.

It would be OK if she wanted to go in her stroller. I would gladly push her around. But nope. She wants to be carried.

For months, we tried teaching her, “Up please!”, and now I would give anything to not hear those two words again. I mean, there is no way in hell you need me to carry you to the kitchen. But on the flip side, I am in no mood to deal with a tantrum. So who wins? SHE DOES!THEY ALWAYS DO! (And then we go down the parental rabbit whole of guilt for feeling like a push-over because we were too tired/rushed/unwilling to deal with a tantrum.)

I’m also cognizant of the fact that in several years, when I actually want to pick her up, she’s not going to want anything to do with me, so I guess I should embrace it now.


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