Rolling Over

  And you thought this post was going to be all about Caleb!  (Don't worry, we'll get to that.  Feel free to skip ahead)
  Our Hyundai rolled over to 100,000 miles the other day.  I'd like to say it was a momentous moment in our lives, that we stopped and celebrated and poured a bottle of champagne over the car.  But it wasn't.  And we didn't.  I blame it on digital odometers--the thrill of watching the 9's slowly creep upward and be replaced by a string of 0's not seen since the car was built was exciting.  (Maybe I didn't have much excitement as a kid.  The suburban I grew up in rolled over twice, and I was in it both times.  I know--wild stuff.)  With digital odometers, they just click over, and the '1' to the left of the o's kind of ruins it.  With the old-school odometers that rolled all the way over, it was almost like they built it without the expectation that it would last that long.  Now, it's no surprise that it makes it to 100k.  (I should be more surprised by the car's durability.  I should be grateful that durability has replaced excitement.  But I'm not.  I know--messed up priorities.  There's probably a deep theological statement about how the culture [and me] prefers momentary amusement over long-term durability.  But to avoid painful awareness of my own sin, I'm going to skip that reflection.)

  Guess we'll just have to see what happens when the car reaches 1,000,000 miles.  That'll show them, right?!  (I'm almost positive we'll own a minivan by then.  I'm already plotting my purchase of a mid-life crisis sports car. Although, I'm wondering if it's still a mid-life crisis if it's planned ten years in advance.  Whatever.  I just want a sports car.)

  And now on to the part you really care about--the car wasn't the only thing that rolled over!

  That's right, our little boy is growing up.

  It wasn't exactly the most impressive gymnastic feat one has ever seen.  The Russian judge only gave it a 3.9, but it's rumored he was on the take.  Caleb is certainly not in any danger of being called up to the Olympic team for London 2012.  (Although if the teams needs a mascot, Rachel and I are happy to accompany him.  Are you listening, USOC?)

  The three of us were hanging out in the living room, and while I forget what we were discussing, it was almost certainly quantum mechanics or something similarly academic, when Caleb decided to make a run for it.  And by make a run for it, I mean manage to get enough momentum up while rolling onto his side that he made it all the way over.  (Except his arm got in the way.  It looked painful.)

  It was way more exciting than the car's odometer.  It's a milestone, a marker that he's growing up, a warning that I'll soon have to child-proof the house.  It was a pretty cool moment, and I'm so grateful he did it at home, under the watchful eye of his parents, rather than at daycare.  I know that we're missing a lot of his time, but it makes it all the more difficult to think of missing him doing things for the first time because we're at work.  (well, I don't mind missing the bad things.  He can do the bad things at daycare.)

  I know that crawling and walking and running and chasing the cat are not as far away as they once seemed.  I am still savoring the tiny baby that he is, the sweet innocent boy that he is today, and trying not to think too much about him being mobile.  I still enjoy the fact that I can set him on the floor and leave the room for two minutes without worrying that he's going to tumble down the stairs.  (Editor's note:  Keith never actually does this.  Purely hypothetical.)  It's still wonderful to hold him in my arms and simply give thanks that today, right now, is an incredible moment, a gift, and whatever tomorrow may bring can wait until tomorrow.