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This Boops Was Made for Walking

In three weeks, Austen has gone from three or four steps in a row to a walking MACHINE. He crosses rooms with confidence and without a specific destination in mind, swerves around obstacles, carries precious objects with him, and is unfazed when he trips. I could sit and watch him run circles around the living room all day.

It's particularly endearing (and amusing) to watch him amble around in just a onesie or just a diaper, with his sturdy, chubby legs poking out and his butt doing a little Nancy Sinatra waggle as he approaches the intriguing contents of a closet. (I don't have any photos of this scenario at the moment, so you'll have to take my word for its cuteness.)

At the moment Austen is careening around the living room, tripping over his own feet, pieces of string, and more substantial obstacles like bits of alumninum foil. I failed in my attempt to get him down for a nap an hour ago, when he gave every sign that he desperately needed one, which means he is now acting like a stumbling drunk. He's really too tired to stay on his feet, and yet he persists. I know I should pick him up and try again to get him to nap, but it's just so damn funny to see him wobbling around, bouncing off the furniture.