Scoot Marks

My son William is a bit of a late bloomer when it comes to motor development: he became mobile just a few days before he reached 10 months of age.  His mode of transport is not a neat, clean hands-and-knees crawl, but more of a complicated full-body commando-crawl, and it has some surprising side-effects.

Picture my little love, flat on his belly, pulling himself forward with one forearm while the other hand pushes off to the side like an oar.  His torso twists and he lifts his butt into the air a little while bending his knees, flexing his feet and tucking his toes under to push off.  In the first few days of this new skill, he could only creep forward about 4 inches at a time.  Over time he has developed a longer “stride” and speedier movements.

His lovely white and pastel organic cotton onesies, which I so lovingly searched for online, and which complement his peachy complexion so well are now streaked down the front with the filth I had no idea resided on our floors. I call these “scoot marks.”  It is a technical term.  Note the rugged OshKosh B’Gosh overalls he is wearing in the photo: Now I know why these come in infant sizes!

His ten little rotund toes each have a pink blister on the tip, which upset me at first. But do they bother my sensitive little guy? No, not at all. The joy that his new found mobility brings him radiates from his face. His flushed cheeks, grunts of exertion and the smiles he shoots me over his shoulder as he scoots away remind me that babies’ internal drive to develop new skills is a powerful one.  And as I fold his overpriced organic onesies after being laundered, I remind myself that William’s feelings of joy and pride are worth every permanent scoot mark.