On Saturday, Emilia rolled over for the first time (that we’re aware of). Mara and I saw her almost do it on Saturday morning, and then Angela called us into the living room later in the day when she was lying on her play “gym”, a mat with a couple of arches from which dangle several toys that are designed to engage the interest of infants (and cats). When Mara and I rushed into the room, sure enough, Millie was on her tummy.
A day earlier, I had put a little teething toy into her hands and she had held onto it for a long time, gripping it with intention and examining it. Even a week ago she lacked the motor skills to really grip something for long, but she’s developing quickly. She does crunches, too, building her neck and core strength. She does them even when she’s swaddled and can’t move her arms. She does them whenever she can, like one of those wrongly imprisoned movie heroes doing one-armed push-ups in his cell against the day he can exact a fit and muscular revenge.
Happy as we are about these developments, both the roll and the grip have down sides. The roll means we can no longer turn our backs on Miss Millie-pants while she reposes on the diaper changing table, or on a bed, otherwise she’ll drop like a cartoon anvil. And being the one in the family with the shortest hair, I alone am exempt from having my locks yanked when I hold Emilia. When Angela or Mara or anyone with long hair holds her, she quickly clamps onto the dangling tresses and won’t let go, and although this is really an unconscious gripping that has been going on for a while, it can only get worse as she starts being the Decider about what she wants to reach for. I’m glad I don’t wear earrings.