Standing Without Assistance

If there is anything that is less useful than standing with assistance, it is standing without assistance. Do not misinterpret my meaning - I still appreciate standing without having to hold onto anything. I feel so much pride each time I do so for my accomplishment, as well as a sense of thrill at the risk I am taking. I laugh often and applaud myself for being so daring. Yet I feel that it is nothing more than a means to an end, and that ends is walking. I will tackle that obstacle when I get there, much as My Dear Sister tackles me whilst attempting to stand.

Working on Walking

I know the next stage in my progression to be more like my sister is walking, but it is a difficult process. For a long time now I have had the ability to stand as she stands; yet I have not accomplished the task of taking a step. I practice - oh, how I practice: I hold hands with others (including cousins who seem unqualified to teach walking), I hold onto my walker and push it around, I walk along the side of furniture, and I will even walk holding onto one of my parents with one hand. Still I cannot take that step. I will stand and focus, but as soon as one foot dares to attempt leaving the ground, I fall. I have even tried pointing at my foot and telling it "Foot, I command you to be moved forward to this point" and point to its new location, and I still fall. No matter how much my parents encourage me and call to me with hands outstretched I continue to find the ability to walk, like their warm embrace, sadly out of reach. Until that joyous day, I will continue to utilize the walking ability of others and refuse to be vanquished.

Standing with Assistance

Pulling myself to standing is another talent which I have perfected long ago. Reaching perfection, however, was not without its bumps. Literally. I would get up, but then want to move to a new location. Luckily, I have now fully honed sitting down from standing, but as a neophyte I only knew how to fall on my head. Yet I was persistent, and mastered this skill without obtaining a single concussion. I wish there was a way, however, to move from one standing location to another without having to return to the floor. I see that others participate in an activity called walking. Perhaps I, too, should take place in this activity, and ask to be carried as they walk.

The Indecency of Getting Decent

I find no joy in getting dressed. I find no joy in getting undressed, either, but at least at the end of being undressed I reach a point when I am without clothes, and that is when the world is bliss. As soon as I am sans diaper and cleaned, I leap up and crawl away as quickly as I can. I will even stop and sit in an attempt to show my loving-yet-ignorant parents just how natural it is to be naked. Yet I am constantly being forced into some inane outfit. No matter my protestations, I am not allowed true freedom. I must continue the good fight, however, for if I fall silent, I may forever lose my inalienable right of freedom of diapers.