Last week I ended with the fact that Dylan was starting to climb things. Anything or anyone, in fact. Since then he has upped it a couple of notches and is now capable of hauling himself into a standing position. And, with only a little support, excitedly jumping up and down on the spot to celebrate the new heights he is quite literally reaching.
This is simultaneously exciting and petrifying. We’re thrilled that he’s progressing so well and it’s wonderful to see him so pleased with his new ability. At the same time, we’re worried about the distinct lack of eyes to the rear of our craniums that my mum and dad once assured me that all parents have.
Don’t tell me they were telling porkies now… we could do with them. The trouble is that Dylan is completely fearless. Quick learner though he is, he seems to forget that toppling over is a tad painful.
Anything is fair game for scaling as far as he’s concerned. His new hobby, for example, is to climb the TV stand and show his approval for what’s on the box by repeatedly slapping it.
I used to cruelly mock the stirrup-like things you get in flat pack furniture, telling them in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t going to waste any further precious time using them. How wrong I was.
I think we are now going to become good friends in our collective aim of stopping our resident Spider-man wannabe from reaching the hi-fi on top of our DVD storage unit. And that leads me oh so nicely to Dylan’s other recently acquired skill.
Yes, it seems he was born to be a dancer. While we’re not sure whether we’ve got another Billy Elliot on our hands – there’s a history of coal mining in my family, so you never know – it’s clear he enjoys moving around to the sound of an eclectic range of music.
We started him off on things like Maxïmo Park – well their stuff inspires front man Paul Smith to leap around the stage. He has also been known to throw some shapes in the church of dance to the likes of Kaiser Chiefs, Foo Fighters, Keane, Noisettes, T. Rex, Paloma Faith and Abba – the last two were not my doing, I hasten to add.
There is a clear favourite, however. It’s not indie, rock, dance, pop or, in fact, any other genre you may come up with however. No, it’s the theme tune to Thomas the Tank Engine.
As soon as the production company’s graphic appears on the screen he stops what he’s doing. He sports a big grin, gets on all fours and starts rocking backwards and forwards at great speed as that famous little ditty plays over the montage of shots of an unrealistically well-run railway.
Then, as soon as Ringo Starr starts talking, he’s right back in the telly’s face again. Maybe he’s trying to tell us he’d like to listen to The Beatles next…