Z has been practicing walking, as often as we can stand it, and a little bit longer than that. He walks until his legs collapse underneath him, and we have to wipe the sweat off his brow. He's already gone from needing to hold on with both hands, to insisting that he only hold on with one. He walks around and around the island in the kitchen, pausing only to admire, and try to eat, the magnets on the fridge. I think he'll be walking unassisted by his birthday. He'll look like a drunk doing it, and he'll certainly add to his collection of bumps, bruises, and scrapes, but what he lacks in coordination and balance, he makes up for with raw enthusiasm and determination. GO Z!
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