During a few spare minutes, I relaxed on the kitchen floor, back against the cabinet, knees bent. Baboo came over and pulled up to standing with astonishing fluidity and confidence. One hand let go of my corduroys. Then the other. He weaved side to side ever so gently, a look of revelation on his face. His hands found my leg again within seconds, but in those few moments I gasped and then held my breath.
Standing. My baby was standing.
Beautiful.