Invisible String

57

By the next month, it had officially become a household mission: get Mira walking by her first birthday.

Which was… tomorrow.

Every time she stood up on her own—even if it was just to squat again—someone in the house gasped like it was a miracle. And every single time, we’d end up crouched down on the floor, arms open like cheerleaders with high-pitched voices, trying to convince her to take even one wobbly step in our direction.

“Come on, baby girl,” I coaxed from across the living room, sitting cross-legged with my phone already recording. “Just one little step. You can do it.”

Travis was on the couch, leaning forward, holding up a slice of banana like it was a million-dollar prize. “You walk to Mama, you get this banana. Best deal in the house.”

Mira wobbled there on her chubby legs, a huge grin on her face like she knew she had us all in the palm of her hand. Then, with great flair, she plopped straight back down onto her diapered butt with a giggle and clapped for herself.

“Almost!” I laughed, pausing the video. “You’re teasing us now.”

“I respect it,” Travis said with a grin, popping the banana slice in his own mouth. “A queen doesn’t walk until she’s ready.”

Lily was more determined than either of us. Every chance she got, she grabbed Mira’s hands and tried to guide her around the house like a little toddler coach. I was half-watching them from the kitchen when I heard a thud and Mira’s trademark grunt.

“Lily!” I called over. “Baby, you’ve gotta slow down, remember?”

“I am going slow!” she called back, holding Mira’s hands in hers as Mira pulled herself back up.

“You can’t pull her too fast, okay?” I said gently as I walked over. “She’s still little. You don’t want to hurt her.”

“I’m not hurting her,” Lily said with a serious face, like it was a real verb. “I’m helping.”

I crouched down and smoothed Mira’s shirt, giving Lily a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know, and you’re doing amazing. But remember: slow, soft hands.”

Lily nodded dramatically and turned back to Mira. “Okay. Slow and soft.” Then she looked up at me. “Do you think she’s gonna walk on her birthday?”

“I think…” I said, glancing at Mira, who had now gotten distracted by a sock on the floor and was gnawing on it. “She’ll do it when she’s ready.”

Travis leaned over the couch, grinning. “And when she does, we better be filming, ‘cause I want that memory in 4K.”

Tomorrow she’d be one. Our little wild thing with her curly hair and constant drool and that smirk she gives right before she does something dangerous.

And if she decided to wait a little longer to walk, that was fine.

We'd carry her until then.

The day before Mira’s birthday felt like the calm before a storm… a very sparkly, frosting-covered, balloon-filled storm.

I had Baylor on my hip and was tossing boxes of decorations onto the kitchen table while Lily zoomed around with a marker, asking if she could make the signs. Every single one. “I’ll draw a cake and her face and a dog and a balloon and maybe a giraffe because they’re funny!”

Travis was in the living room with Mira, trying to coax her into walking again. He crouched a few feet away, holding out a baby cracker like it was the ultimate prize. “Come on, birthday girl,” he said in a sing-songy voice. “You want this? Come get it!”