Here's the thing. Rolling. And bum up in the air like-it's-nobody's-business scooting.
Rhys rolled from belly to back for the first time at 13 weeks. Which, adjusted age-wise, is actually 6 weeks and makes him like the Michael Jordan of babies. Is Michael Jordan an outdated reference?
Anyway, Quin took the more leisurely lumpish baby pace and rolled over belly to back for the first time at 18 weeks.
I've been feeling quite proud of my babies' physical prowess in the rolling department.
I had no idea.
Rolling, apparently, is the tip of the mobility ice burg.
Suddenly both babies also roll belly to back. And they squirm. And wriggle. And arch. These little movements add up to a surprising amount of forward, backward, and sideways motion.
I've signed them up for a triathlon in August.
Running out of the room for a second to throw in a load of laundry has taken on new meaning. Cause sometimes I come back and they've scooted right off the safety of their little play blanket and are waiting for me under the couch.
This game is less fun at night when any scootage results in the smashing of heads into the bars of the bumper-less crib.
Everyone warns moms about rolling. And crawling. And walking. And I sort of wonder, isn't that the point of all of this? Forward motion.
Roll on, babies.