04 Sep “Got ya, Dada”: One Toddler’s Hilarious First Steps
When it comes to stepping out, Alex A. G. Taub’s son refuses to toe the line.
Last year, my son gave me my first Father’s Day gift – some insight into his future sense of humour. As a ‘professional’ father, I found the lesson that accompanied this revelation somewhat humiliating…
A Sneaky Little Stepper
My son was standing tall on his feet just after his first birthday. I knew he could walk, because I saw him walking out of the corner of my eye. He would take one to four steps before returning to his knees. However, if I dared to notice his method of propulsion, he would give me a dirty look and return to his speed crawling. He would never experiment on his feet if he knew we were watching, and especially not if we had company.
The Pressure to See a Specialist
At his 15-month check-up, I raised the issue with his paediatrician. She assured me, “If he can climb stairs or get up on the dining-room table to hold the cat-food dish over his head like a trophy, then he will walk when he wants.” I was comfortable with this answer, and I hoped that was the end of it.
Unwanted Advice From the ‘Experts’
Unfortunately, my wife and I live in a suburb populated by too many nurses, doctors and other parenting ‘experts’. Many friends started commenting, “If he can’t walk by now, maybe you should take him to an expert at my clinic”. I heard it over and over. I tried to explain to these well-meaning people that my son could walk; he just refused to do it for their benefit.
This answer worked for a while, but as he approached 20 months of age, my friends became more insistent. “I don’t know why you just don’t take him to Dr So-and-so. It will just put your mind at ease.” It was all I could do to hold my tongue.
The Father’s Day Showdown
The Friday before Father’s Day, he was 21 months old, and we were sitting in the local coffee shop, when someone dared to say, “He should be walking by now. You need to have him seen by a real paediatrician or an expert. His mother would.”
I felt both angry and insulted. Our paediatrician is a trusted friend, and the tone in this ‘expert’s’ voice insinuated that she thought I was neglecting my son’s welfare. What is more, she honestly believed that my gender made me less of a parent. My frustration boiled over.
I carefully raised my son out of his stroller and placed him softly on the coffee shop floor. Lifting him onto his feet, I took one of his hands. We then showed our surrounding friends that my son could, in fact, put one foot in front of the other and walk across the cafe.
After a moment of glorious silence, one of the ‘experts’ asked, “How long has he been able to do that?” With steam coming from my ears, I answered, “A year. I told you, he just won’t do it publicly.”
One Small Step, One Giant Joke
As I carried my son back to the table, I looked into his smiling face as he dared to say, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Got ya, Dada”.
I wonder what he is going to teach me this year…
