Today Mademoiselle discovered she could climb by herself onto the stain-covered old futon that serves as a couch in our living room. She was reaching for my cell phone, which I'd slid just beyond her reach, and decided what the heck, she'd try and hoist herself up with her knee. And sure enough, it worked.
She looked as surprised as I was. She's not walking yet, although she's taken a couple of very tentative steps on several occasions; she's still nowhere close to sleeping through the night. Nevertheless, I feel like everything has sped up suddenly, and I can't keep up.
Being back at work is exhilarating. But every day is a race, or rather a whirling dance, from the morning train I chase to the clothes I choose before going to bed at night. Obviously I've been finding no time to blog.
Le Petit has been quickly and quietly growing up, too. OK, not exactly quietly -- a neighbor actually scolded him for yelling in the hallway last week -- but discreetly, in his own way. All of a sudden he can count (with some help) all the way to 100, and he even sets his place at the dinner table by himself, without prompting. He's four years old, after all, as he proudly announces to everyone he meets.
"J'ai quatre ans," he announced to the lady who lives down the hall. Four years old.
A few days later, he saw her again.
"J'ai toujours quatre ans," he assured her. Still four years old.
I dunno about her, but I certainly found that reassuring.