I wish "Boris the Spider" by The Who would quit ringing in my head. It's sort of a dark-sounding song. I don't like it very much.
But the chorus sung in falsetto "creepy-crawly-creepy-crawly-creepycreepycrawlycrawly..." just begs to be heard when I watch tiny little Katrina making her way stealthily across a room...
...and straight to the stairs!
Oh No. Gabriel was absolutely impossible with stairs as a crawler. I used to carry a gate in my car for going to houses with ungated stairs, so that I wasn't constantly carrying him back down, protesting more and more each time. It got really hard after a while. Katrina's instant attraction to stairs makes me nervous about a repeat. Oh No!
She's still pretty slow, but she's having no end of fun with this crawling thing. A whole new world has opened up! And, just like Gabriel (a phrase I find myself using frighteningly frequently), she likes to crawl away, up, over, and into things.
Like to the stairs.
Then to the sliding door to the patio.
Then to the big bag of powdery, toxic grout the tilers left on the floor today.
Then into Julian's Special Bin of just his things that no one's allowed to touch.
Then into Gabriel's Special Bin of just his things that no one's allowed to touch.
Then to the thumb-pulls for the basement trapdoor, with the half-sphere recess filled with dirt, dust and crumbs.
Then to any garbage can.
Then to the prized new coloring book one or other brother left on the floor, perfect for shredding and tearing the careful artwork.
Then to a Lego assembly, perfect for shaking and pulling off tiny little bits (mmm, tasty).
And to anything other than a basket of nice, safe, soft baby toys.
"Creepy crawly creepy crawly...."