BABY STEPS.

The other day I caught Further in a curious routine. He would pull himself up against our closet door, then stare longingly at the bookshelf a couple feet away. Next he would sit back down, crawl over to the bookshelf, stand up and stare back at the closet door. Then he would repeat this action––back and forth, bouncing off the walls in slow motion.But I could see it in Further's eyes, and in his posture, what he was trying to do. I could see how much he just wanted to walk from the bookshelf to the closet, closet to bookshelf, and do away with all this crawling business.We are, I suspect, only a couple days or weeks away from a first step. Maybe even hours. I am excited for Further to be able to experience the efficiency of walking. And I am terrified as a father of the new level of bonk-potential he will achieve by doing so. It's a bit like it was when I was skateboarding. The better I got, and the more tricks I learned, the more dangerous skateboarding became. It wasn't so bad when I was scooting around on my butt. It was when I was trying to kick-flip down stairs that it became real. To me, walking is Further's newest, more dangerous trick.But skateboarding also became more fun. The better I got at skating the more the world opened up to me. And I am excited for my son to experience that for himself––the freedom that better mobility allows. I think a lot about how many times I'm going to have to let my son go off into the world, learn things, get banged up and experience life. One day he's going to walk. One day he's going to shoot a gun. One day he's going to drive. One day, I fear, he's going to want a skateboard. And I will advise him––teach him where I can––but ultimately I have to let him go. I have to, I suppose––both metaphorically, and probably legally––let him walk.That being said, I think of what my friend Pavel reminded me recently about children aging, that it happens gradually. Because I need my slow motion "bouncing off the walls" to ready me for the real thing––the real wall bounces, the real kick-flips, the real growing up. I need my baby steps, too.- Jesse.