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My son has been hitting a lot of milestones lately. He turned one last week, and I’ve frankly been overwhelmed with happiness, awe and a little bittersweet nostalgia that the time has gone by so quickly.

After much posturing of his intentions to do so, he finally made good on his tentative first steps and is what I’d officially categorize as really “walking.” He’s getting better by the day, letting go of the couch/table/pant leg he’d previously clung for dear life to and wobbled with jubilation six or seven steps before plopping predictably on his bottom. His momentum is not unlike that of a drunk person, using his hands to “cabbage patch” his way into forward motion, unable to really control this skill that his brain seems to readily get, but mechanically can’t quite execute.

The other thing he’s learned to do, is finally coordinate his hands to a real, discernable clap. This is almost equally adorable because in the middle of playing, walking or whatever, he’ll simply stop what he’s up to, and begin clapping. Although I think he doesn’t really understand what applause means yet, his face lights up to realize he’s managed to refine another motor skill.

But nothing makes my day more than when he toddles up to me, looks up with those adoring eyes and begins the slow clap. I know he’s just showing off his new skill, but to me, he’s giving me my very first round of applause. It’s the little things, people!