Ever since Nathan started to walk, he does everything he can to break free. I tried shopping the other day with him belted into the stroller. When he started to squirm, I rocked the stroller back and forth like I had done so many times before. I caught his eyes in the mirror and he shot me the most condescending glare. Like, come on, Mom. There’s all this movement but we’re not going anywhere.
This is very disappointing. Now how am I going to trick him into playing my favorite game: “Who Can Keep Still The Longest Wins”?
And when we’re in a store and his 28-pound body has become far too heavy for me to schlep any longer, I lower him to the ground and suddenly, he’s off. The first few times I did this, I could lure him back by saying, “Okay Nathan, Mommy’s going bye-bye. See you later!” And I would duck behind an aisle and peek back at him until I knew he was bumbling my way. Now, that trick no longer works. He’s caught on. Now Nathan’s like, “Catch ya on the flipside Mom! I’m going to throw expensive stuff on the floor now.”
And if I make any move to retrieve him, he flees, laughing hysterically. It’s as if he’s taken the concept of Godzilla and turned it into a comedy. He becomes one of those scrambling Japanese people running away from the behemoth, only instead of screaming, “Godzirra! Godzirra!” he starts squealing with joy as if he’s an extra in “Nathan Vs. Mothra: A Musical of Hope!”
But I can’t really blame him. When you’re only 30+ inches from the ground, everyone is Godzilla.