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Mom and I encountered a family on Saturday with a little girl that was running around and making best fried a with everyone at the resta we chose for a late lunch. She was ADORABLE, smiling and wandering from the entrance to the dining area and even trying multiple times to escape out the door. Expecting mom to say she was about a year and a half, I asked how old she was. The mother looked at me and smiled "eleven months". I was floored. Eleven months?? This baby got around better than I did!! 

The familiar pang of uncertainty overtook my brain again, as often happens when I encounter an infant, toddler, or even teenager....when will Kennedy walk? How will it happen? Will it happen naturally? Take hours and hours of therapy? Will all of my friends' kids be running around come spring next year and I will be carrying my little one? And the absolute worst--will they make fun of her? 

It only took thirty seconds for God, as usual, to calm my mind. The pretty mom smiled the smile of a mom who'd been up many a night thinking the same thing--she went back to those thoughts and nights briefly and turned and said to us quietly "I was worried, you know...she wasn't rolling over...I thought she had developmental problems. The one day she got going, pulled herself up, and was gone! Hasn't stopped since."

I don't know when Kennedy will walk. I have faith she will and will do it well. I want her to dance. I want her to do any physical activity any other kid can do. And I know time will tell. But until then, when the image below pops up on my screen from an app talking about milestones and where my daughter should be developmentally...well, to borrow a phrase from a character on a well known movie that has become quite popular, to that app I say "Bye, Felicia. BYE. "

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