She'll do it one day.
I am fully aware that my supporting role in the steadying of The Poop's legs will have long been rendered surplus to requirements as she awaits her turn on the primary school hopscotch. I appreciate that I will not be guiding her shuffling feet to the bus stop at 13. I wholly understand that at 32, she will not make her way across the aisle in Tesco on all fours (unless she has stumbled upon an almighty compo claim).
I know "I shouldn't worry"; that "I should be patient"; that "she'll get there in her own good time". But you see, I don't worry, I am incapable of being patient, and I want her to reach these milestones in MY GOOD TIME. Like, now.
So be a good girl, stick one foot in front of the other and GET WALKING.
I wouldn't mind Betty's inability to walk so much if she were a long way off achieving it; if notions of upright locomotion were a far off pipe dream. Because instead of either walking, or indeed not walking at all, Boo teases me with these three day standing marathons she has recently invented, where she will begin standing, unaided, on Thursday, and persist with her upright position throughout the day and the following three nights, before finally plonking back down to her bum sometime Sunday afternoon.
Whilst occupying this hovering stance position, she will unflinchingly crouch down to pick things up, clap her hands, wiggle her hips, lift one foot to dance (that is not an exaggeration by the way); all of which are executed with a wry smile on her face in order to thoroughly irk me by not only demonstrating her steadfast balance and unquestionable strength and thus her absolute readiness to walk, but by also laughing IN MY FACE about choosing not to.
Just thinking about that smirk makes me want to punch myself in the eye so I do not have to witness it again.
When she isn't doing squats for the day, Boo can be found hastily and expertly traversing the room by passing from table to chair to...oh...oh...there's nothing for her to lean on...oh...oh...is she going to step?...then...DOWN to the ground she drops before crawling happily away.
Lazy if you ask me.
Out and about, Boo happily trundles alongside me in the supermarket, holding my hand, placing one foot in front of the other without care, thought or concern, yet as soon as I remove my hand from hers, and encourage her towards me, DOWN she goes before scuffling on her hands and knees in my direction.
The Poop's inability to walk is absolutely infuriating. It's completely annoying and totally ruining my life.
Yet there is one thing WORSE than The Poop not walking.
And that is OTHER KIDS WALKING.
And there is only one solitary thing on this God's earth worse than other kids walking. It is worse than realising your tax disc has run out and you've lost the reminder. It's worse than waking up thinking it is Saturday then quickly remembering it's actually Tuesday.
It's worse than Hollyoaks. So it must be bad.
And that terrible thing is that...OTHER KIDS YOUNGER THAN THE POOP ARE WALKING.
No and/or need.
I am all about the competitive. Sports days, house points, Brownie badges; bring it. (Clearly, in my head, I am still nine). A bit of healthy competition teaches pride, resilience, the value of hard work. Striving to be the best should be encouraged and celebrated. I say point and laugh at the kid that finishes the sprint last. Boo and hiss at the lad who got two out of ten on his spellings. Chinese burn the girl playing your game that can't do handstands. It's not about the taking part, it's all about the winning.
Unless my team are not winning.
And in this case, The Poop is not winning, and it's all your fault - I mean, for God's sake, the pressure that you people are putting on the poor girl is, quite frankly, unbearable. All these jumped up 10 month old walking prodigies are no better: ruining her self esteem and making her question the usefulness of her limbs.
You should be ashamed of yourselves.
Or at least you should be until she starts walking, at which point you can resume your usual status of being amazed/overwhelmed/impressed/flabbergasted at my arrogance and The Poop's ability to do everything faster/bigger/louder than any other baby you know.
*races away to find Rocky sound track and tiny skipping rope*