It was a breezy Sunday morn as my husband and I took our son, Jason, to his favorite spot, the town square. He slashed the wall fountain, slashed goo on the bricks, slashed paper napkins billowing around, slashed dogs off leashes, slashed other tottering tots. . . to perform his favorite activity: climbing stairs -- 45 to be exact.

For nearly two years our son has crawled up and down those gum-stained, red-clay colored stairs like a darting lizard on a steep rock.

After Jason learned to walk he was determined to climb those stairs, upright, like Mommy and Daddy (no more crawling for him, well, almost). Every weekend he'd stand at the bottom, position himself next to the wall and under the railing (that he was too short to grab), reach out his hand for me or Dad to hold, look up, put one shoe in front of the other, and climb and crawl.

This breezy Sunday, Jason stood in the middle of those stairs with no wall for support and no railing, put a foot on the first step and the other on the second one, while I watched from behind and my husband observed from ten steps above.

I yelled to my husband, “Look! He's doing it! He's walking up the stairs by himself!” My husband smiled back as we watched Jason hike up a dozen stairs for the first time.

When parents hear their child's first words and see their child's initial steps, it is a precious moment. (Our son did not take his first steps clear across a room until he was 19 months old, or say his first words until he was 21 months because he was born with Down syndrome.)

Now when my son attempts to walk up and down the steps at home, the mom in me holds out her hand for support, but he bats it away as if to say (and some day he will!) 'No, Mom, I can do it myself!'

I grin and glow because I know that he can!

By Lisa Nolan

Labels: Lisa Nolan

Stumble This Post