VivaCity

Hey, Jude…Don’t let them win…Move your damn hands…And frigging crawl now-oo-ow…We’re tired…Of watching you rock and cry…Some time before next July-yyy…Friggi-ing crawl now. Naaa…naaa naaa na na na naaa…

Crawl, man. Go ahead. We’re all behind you. Yes, you might fall. Yes, rugburn on your teeny nose is a risk…A risk you must take. Crawling is hip, man, all the babies are doing it. Far out.

I promise if you crawl within the next…hmmm…two weeks, I’ll doctor your baby book and say six months. By the time you and I get around to sitting down and reminiscing over such milestones, Mommy dearest will have forgotten anyway, sweetheart, and no one will be the wiser. The terms of this deal expire after two weeks, though. Act quickly.

Although Mommy loves you and is SO PROUD of your hands-and-knees rocking ability, it’s getting old, babe. Mommy doesn’t have the greatest attention span. I love the movie Dirty Dancing, but would I watch it 24/7? Let’s get this show on the road.

I know that all too soon, you will be jet-setting circles around me, and I will crave a moment in which you are immobile and speechless, but I must admit I’m getting a bit worried about development. Word on the street is, rocking on your hands and knees is not the best way to attract women. Or the right type of woman, rather. And it has no place on a college application. Unless of course you plan on testing knee pads for a living. Which doesn’t provide for a cushy mother-in-law suite, so that’s out.

All I’m saying is this, dear JuJuBee…CRAWL. Please. I have the greatest aspirations for you, but time’s a-wasting, and you’re going nowhere fast. You can be anything you want to be…except stationary.