In the last couple of weeks, my daughter has taken the big move from crawling to walking. Another way of saying that, is saying watching her “walk” bares a similar resemblance to watching ET in the slow moving queue for the toilet. And he just had a big dose of MSG. And he is MSG intolerant. Actually, she talks about as much as ET does too. And it sure as hell isn’t English.
Her walk is more of a waddle done by a zombie in those films that make me cry and not sleep at night because I am a big girl. This, along with the loud screaming noise she seems to make while walking, makes for entertaining, if not ear damaging fun.
Her walking has the fluid motion of a dog that has one of those big dish neck braces on and is trying to work out where his nuts have gone. They were there when he went to sleep, and yet he woke up, he now has an inverted umbrella on his neck and he has that realisation that somethings missing. He is all over the place hunting for the lost souls. The fallen comrades. He will now constantly try to lick mine because he has some spare time on his hands from where he used to while away the hours cleaning his own until they were worthy of putting in a display cabinet. If that isn’t bad enough, it’s not even my dog!
But for my daughter, it’s like she has no knees. Her legs don’t bend at all and she falls on her arse every few steps. So basically, she is me. But female. And 33 years younger. And she manages it without the need for being caught short with a queue for that toilet and realising that very soon, there could be a fluid motion of my own…and I don’t mean the walking kind.
So life really is an ever decreasing circle. It starts with the inability to walk, and then you can do it fine. Then you get to your late teenage years and get so drunk that you cant walk anymore, and then you grow up again and stop the excessive nightly drinking. And then several years later you find out you are intolerant to pretty much everything and start to do that bottom grabbing hopping “DONT BEND YOUR LEGS WALKING UP THE STAIRS!” thing on your way to the toilet. And then you get over your intolerances by not having them, and are fine again. And then you get old. You cant walk, you fowl yourself and require someone younger to look after you while rambling in a way that makes absolutely no sense at all. Well, to everyone else it doesn’t, but to the grandchild sitting in the room it makes complete sense, and they fill their nappies together.
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