Changing diapers was an autopilot kind of thing after a year. Michael would brag that he'd gotten pretty good at it, but it wasn't exactly brag-worthy. For now, it was fine with just not being gross anymore.
He set Rigby down on the floor then realized that the diaper bag was in the nursery. He glanced down at her, trying to decide if he really needed to move her or not. She looked perfectly content staying right there. Plus, he was just getting a new diaper and the wipes.
Michael hurried down the hall, grabbing the necessary items and rushed back to the living room. Rigby wasn't there.
Michael glanced around. Sometimes she crawled a small distance away, but she usually didn't get far. Except Rigby was nowhere to be seen this time. The living room was empty excluding himself. Michael walked back into the hallway. No sign of her. Thinking that maybe she'd followed him without him noticing, but she wasn't in the nursery either. He checked his room and the kitchen next but to no avail.
He stood there for a second, disbelieving the situation he'd somehow gotten himself in to.
Then he heard the little pitter patter of feet, which was a foreign sound to him. Instantly perking up, he followed the sound into the laundry room. There was Rigby, standing up with her hands pressed against the washing machine. She glanced up and giggled at Michael before turning away and stumbling towards the basket of dirty clothes.
Michael stood there in shock. She was walking, RIgby was actually walking. She'd been trying (even taking a few steps here and there) but she'd never been able to figure out where her feet were supposed to go. But now she was walking all on her own.
"Well this could turn bad real quick." Michael muttered. Rigby giggled in response.