Going Commando

The graduation from rolling to crawling is not always clear cut.

Infant development has been studied down to such a fine science that baby websites now send an e-mail update to advise you what your baby is going to learn this week. It’s incredible on one hand, but incredibly boring on the other.

The transition to crawling is a real opportunity for babies to show some character. To do something unique. Something unpredictable.

It’s fascinating how they come up with their own way of getting around.

Firstly, there’s the ‘vanilla‘.

A certified classic. This is your run of the mill hands and knees, left, right, left, right routine. A tried and true method. This is for babies who don’t fuck around. They might not pack any creative flair, but they know how to get the job done. If your baby learns to crawl like this they will probably be an accountant or a data analyst. I’m sorry to break it to you, but that’s just how it is. Someone has to do the tax returns.

Then there’s the ‘bum scootch‘.

This involves using your arms to drag your ass around the room. While being an inventive way to get from A to B, it does awkwardly resemble a dog desperately dealing with a serious case of tapeworm. This type of crawling is for babies who find the quickest and easiest way to do something with a blatant disregard for fundamentals or aesthetics. They’re the kids that get the math question right, but get penalised for not ‘working it out the right way’. So, they’ll seem like slackers at first, but will probably end up becoming entrepreneurs and invent the next Uber or something.

Then, there’s ‘the worm’.

This crawling style pays homage to the infamous dance move responsible for setting discos ablaze across the globe. At its peak popularity, it was responsible for burning down, on average, three discos per night in the mid-80’s. If you’re in your late 20’s or early 30’s, your mother was very likely courted, successfully, with this manoeuvre. But let’s be honest, these babies are flagrant show-offs. They’re the flamboyant ones. Likely to end up as dancers or fashion designers, and will undoubtedly be the life of the party.

Frankie, on the other hand, had adopted the most bad ass crawling technique of them all. THE COMMANDO. This is like Special Forces shit. I like to think that, much to my wife’s grievance, she’s subconsciously absorbed the ability while watching me play Metal Gear Solid. This is, without question, the raddest crawling technique of all. If your baby does this, they are already too cool for school. They are too legit. 2-legit 2-quit, in fact. Probably destined to become an advertising creative, or a funny blog writer, or if your lucky, BOTH.

The Frankfurter has been officially on the move for a few weeks now, mastering the technique so precisely that she could easily make it through a barbed wire-strung and mud-laden Tough Mudder stage. The Australian SAS have already earmarked her for sniper training, but I have told them not until she is at least three years old.

And she is lightning quick. Like Matt Preston on the fourth and final pork and prawn dumpling at a table for three. If someone steps outside and leaves the door open, she is on it in a flash, making a break for it.

Much to the cat’s dismay, she is now adept enough to seek him out and administer her uniquely styled form of patting, otherwise known as ‘forcefully grabbing some fur and pulling’. Safe to say, he’s not a big fan, and looks about as impressed as someone who’s just endured a deep tissue massage from Captain Hook.

In the mornings, when I have to leave for work, she’ll shuffle her way to the door in what has become a heartbreakingly beautiful routine. It’s hard to know whether it’s more ‘goodbye, have a good day’ or ‘why are you leaving?’, but it is nevertheless endearing.

All in all, she’s a real mover. Before the commando, she would roll from one of the house to the other, and it won’t be long before she’s standing and walking.

Then the cat is in some serious trouble.