I like ruts. I prefer to stay in my ruts whenever possible. But every once in awhile, I'm forced out of my beloved ruts by circumstance. Last night was just such a circumstance.
At eight at night, I would, per the rut, be sitting by the woodstove reading a book, thinking about heading upstairs for bed in half an hour or so. Instead, A. and I took the dogs on a walk in the woods.
I KNOW. I totally climbed out of THAT rut. Momentarily, anyway.
It was almost a full moon, you see. Also, there was a thin snow cover on the ground reflecting the moon light. It was so bright, we were casting shadows and didn't need flashlights at all. Plus, it was a relatively comfortable 30 degrees with very little wind.
The walk itself was uneventful and unremarkable. Except for the fact that it was occurring at pretty much my bedtime.
And hey! Speaking of walking! Several comments yesterday made me aware that it is perhaps WAAAAY past time that I tell you Cubby is walking.
Yeah. Sorry about that.
He's actually been walking for almost a month now, although in the beginning it wasn't so much walking as controlled falling. Now he's graduated to lurching in the manner of Dr. Frankenstein's monster. Or a mummy. Cute!
He can get across a room by himself if there are no obstacles, though he still prefers to have a finger to hold onto. He skipped crawling entirely, apparently considering that too inconvenient and babyish.
This has, of course, opened up whole new vistas to him. Some favorite destinations include the brass drawer handles on various pieces of furniture (shiny!), the liquor cabinet (shiny bottles!), any dog or cat foolish enough to stay within range (fuzzy!), and this one floor lamp that he would pull right on top of himself if left to his own devices (stupid!).
Thankfully, he has not yet managed to figure out how to get up by himself from the floor. He's trying REALLY HARD, though, so I know it's only a matter of time before I no longer have an infant and instead have an honest-to-God toddler.