My home is now a deathly assault course

IT’S true what they say, the days are long but the months fly with a baby.

I’ve been obsessed with getting my son to roll for the past couple of months and now he’s doing it, I’m reminiscing of the days when he stayed in one place.

My favourite week was the one when he discovered his mobility but could only shuffle himself across the carpet on his back. Oh, the lovely mornings we spent after dropping his dad off at work. Me on the couch with my coffee, catching up on the latest episode of Love Island while my baby safely made his way to his favourite spot in the living room.

He’d entertain himself for ages, gurgling and cooing, content in his world and gazing in utter wonderment at his own feet.

Fast forward less than a month and things are not so serene. Now, when I turn my back for more than a second, my wee one has leapt into action quicker than a Royal Marines Commando. And my seemingly clutter-free home has become a deathly assault course in my eyes, one which is just waiting to snare a young victim.

He’s perfected his roll, which is obviously something I’m chuffed with, but I can’t help missing that peaceful time of a few weeks ago when I always knew my son stayed put when I put him down.

For someone who is only able to move using an interesting technique which involves hauling himself by his elbows and thrusting his bum high in the air, he can cover an impressive amount of ground in a terrifyingly short space of time. And I know it’s only going to get ramped up as he gets stronger and more curious.

One of my best friends texted to check his progress and was promptly told to “shut it” when she laughed and reminded me of those simple days of a few weeks ago when I was desperate to get him rolling.

After messaging our group chat in a panic after seeing a pal on Instagram bragging her own little cherub was rolling, I sought reassurance that mine would follow suit soon. After all, he’s two weeks older than the athlete I’d witnessed online.

Happily, I was told to chill out by everyone I asked. “They move in their own time”, was the general consensus, as well as “enjoy this peace while you have it”.

My health visitor also put my mind at ease by reminding me my big boy had a “lot of timber” to move compared to some babies, and he’d do it when he was good and ready.

Now he’s good and ready, I miss my static son and I’m shattered from all the rushing to the rescue every time he gets on his front then goes ballistic because he can’t roll back.

But one day I’ll miss all of this, so I’ll keep downing the coffee and be there to turn him back during this too short time he needs me to.