Do the locomotion

Yesterday Caroline crawled in our house for the first time. In recent months she'd become adept at wriggling across the floor with her tummy scraping the rug. But she is officially on all fours now.

Time to babyproof the electrical outlets, the cabinets, the staircase! Didn't we just put all that stuff away? Having children and grandchildren is like watching a time-lapse movie. The film frames race by, people pop out, grow like weeds, and run out the front door forever, while the next generation zooms in to start the cycle over again.

Yesterday, in a wistful moment, I said to Melinda, "Oh, I wish you were still four years old. You were so adorable!" In a split second she retorted indignantly: "Don't you like me the way I am now?" Well, yes. Yes, I do, sweetheart. I'll hold onto that thought. It's a perfect antidote for nostalgia overdose, an indulgence to which I am prone. It reminds me to savor each fleeting frame in my life's documentary.

Someday I'll long to relive these winter nights when my 16-year-old daughter and I hold hands while watching "The Gilmore Girls." For now, I must remember to simply enjoy them. In the immediacy of the moment, I will shout with excitement when Caroline puts one knee in front of the other and crawls to my side, pulling herself up until she is standing with her baby hands on my shoulder.