First Things First

I'm not sure why we're so fascinated with experiencing and recording out babies firsts. First words, first crawl, first step, first solution to a quadratic equation. Parents love watching firsts. The switch from laying there as a helpless blob having to beg the world for things out of your reach, to mobility, is huge. The switch from a passive observer of the world to an active participant. Maybe that's why we're fascinated with it, because we realize that seldom, if ever, do we undergo such a dramatic shift in the way we interact with the world. They can't grasp that huge change, so we watch it, and remember it, and record it, so that we can them tell the stories when they get older. Maybe we can transfer some of our great joy at their great change back to them.
My oldest daughter was right at that point. Right where babies are just starting to become mobile. They can sort of scootch along on their bellies to get a toy, but they can't crawl yet. If they make it a foot over the course of 20 minutes, they've gone on an expedition. These are that last days of peace. You can still turn around and reasonably expect your baby to be in the same spot when you turn back.
I was checking email and eating from a box of powdered doughnuts at the desk in the living room. My daughter was being awesome and playing by herself with a couple of toys in the middle of the living room. She was happy. I was happy. I was thirsty. I went to get a drink from the fridge. The desk was a mess so I set the doughnuts on the floor next to my chair. I walked to the kitchen, pulled out a drink, and walked back. I couldn't have been gone for 60 seconds. Probably more like 30. The sight that greeted me upon my return will haunt me the rest of my days.
My daughter had somehow moved over 8 feet (I measured) in the time I had been gone. She had never eaten anything that hadn't come out of a blender, all natural homemade baby food. Somehow she knew, animal instinct maybe? She knew that those doughnuts were worth it. I found her with a doughnut in each hand and her cheeks packed as full as any chipmunk ever has. Her eyes as big as saucers. She was radiating joy and triumph. I was experiencing failure. This was a first for me, the very first time I had underestimated my children. It was not the last.
It took a lot of work to pry those doughnuts out of her hands. She was not happy that I was taking away her hard won prize. My wife is disappointed at me to this very day. Not about the doughnuts, but that I didn't take a picture of it first.