Well, it is official. Noah is now a walking man.
That is, if you count taking four or five steps and then tumbling over as walking. Which I do.
He has randomly taken a step here or there, but then immediately fallen to his kness, because, let's face it-crawling is faster for an eleven-month old. However, yesterday, while playing with his toys in the living room, he stopped to walk to me. Then he did it again. And again. True, he fell pretty quickly, but I blame it on the shouts of excitment that came from Caleb and me as we celebrated this huge accomplishment.
I think he could have kept going, but the doorbell rang, ending our moment. I answered it, thinking it was one of the neighbors coming to play. Nope. Mormons.
Now, any other time I would have loved to have chatted with them, firmly, but lovingly, defending my faith. However, Noah's shining moment had then become a screaming fit because I dared to walk more than two feet away from him. Sorry, Mormon guys-my screaming baby was not going to help me show the patience that my faith teaches me to have.
Regardless of the interruption, Noah continued to perform and entertain the whole family. He thinks he is quite the stuff.
I would have to agree.