For months, Rick and I have speculated at what age Ava would decide to up and run. She was a strong little munchkin right from the start, trying to hold her head up on her first day of life to catch a glance at the bright and blurry world. Her tiny legs would stand straight in our laps when we held her up, hands firmly in her armpits.
Ava fooled us all and waited until she was a solid one year old before she decided to take it to the next level. This past week started with a tentative two or three steps, and then quickly blurred into an all out run. She walks around the house just because she can. Often, you can only see the top of her head by tables and couches, but we get a kick out of seeing her emerge from her hiding spots on two feet.
With the walking has come the climbing, which has forced us to be parental hawks. The couches have become Ava's giant jungle gyms, putting her up to great heights. Ava isn't satisfied with seat level. Oh no, she has to climb higher until the window blinds are in her mini grasp.
Our miniture fugitive, constantly on the lam!