My son is nine months and I love to see him explore the new skills he got—pulling up himself to stand and cruising the living room in short steps either with our assistance or holding himself up with the couch. He does not want to be carried much anymore, which is a good thing because he is growing heavier by the day, and would want to be either crawling or sitting up.

Ziki showing off his new skill from Normi Herrera on Vimeo.

Yesterday, he discovered the stairs on his own. I left him shortly on the mat playing so I can fix his toys and when I glanced back  to check on him, Ziki is already trying to climb on the first step of the stairs with both his hands on the second step. I rushed to him and he just gave me a happy smile with all his six teeth exposed. I kissed the boy and helped him up the stairs. And every time he climbs up one step, he looks up at me and snorts happily. He was enjoying it.

Well, for one, we need to install stair gates now. It would only be days before Ziki will try this stunt again. And we’ll have to double up on baby-proofing the house because this boy does not mind getting scraped, bonked or even fall.

This makes me anxious somehow. Of course as a mom, you would want your child to be safe all the time. But then again, I have to remind myself that we have a boy. And boys will definitely get themselves hurt as they play. It is part of the adventure, you’d hear them say, and they say it with great pride.

I grew up in a home with boys. You see, I have three little brothers (who are not so little anymore). And when we were younger, we would play rough sometimes, wrestling and climbing the fence. We would get bukol (head bumps), knee scratches, lip cuts, and the like, and it would be okay. The next day, we would be playing the same thing again. So I am quite familiar with all these.

But I guess it is different when you have a child of your own. If only you could cover them in bubble wrap to keep them from any accidents. I have unconsciously developed this fear that Ziki might get hurt pretty bad and I won’t be able to stop the crying. Then, I will feel helpless for seeing him in pain. However, I am going ahead of myself.

I have to let him experience the cuts and bruises for him to learn and enjoy his childhood. No, it is not being sadistic. But I can vividly recall and narrate the story of every scar on my body caused by playing, and it brings me back to my childhood days. And I love it when I go down memory lane like that. It is in those moments that I realized lessons in my young life and they have helped me grow. To think I am saying this as girl. What more if I was a boy.

“Mommy look at my ball handling skillz!”

Yeah, Ziki may still be a baby now, but he is growing so fast my heart can’t keep up. Even now I already miss those days when he is just in my arms and he would stare at me and coo (I’m tearing up happy tears now as I type). My little baby is becoming a boy day by day.  I have to remember he has to go through what any normal, growing boy would—rough play and adventures. And I bet my husband, who is a big man with a boy heart, would love every second of the moment he will spend playing with our little man.

Ziki has been teaching me a lot. I thank God he gave me a son.