Finn puts his hands in front of him, gets up on his knees. He’s all gaping smile and big ears, the tufts of red hair on his peach fuzz head glowing in the sunlight. He totters back and forth on his hands and knees, watching his sister move about the room endlessly. There is an expression of confused mysticism that passes over his face. “How does she do that?”

He gives it a try himself. He rocks back and forth on his hands and knees. Each rock gathers further momentum. He rocks faster and faster as if he would take off like a rocket ship at any minute; spring forward with ease and grace, zoom through the room with a smile and cackle of glee. Instead, his arms give out, and he falls flat on his face into the soft, baby blue blanket spread over the living room floor. He snuffles and looks up into my face, a dejected pout on his lips, angry scowl wrinkling across his forehead.

Although he is only six and a half months old, he has learned quickly. Finn knows to compete in this crazy family, he better get mobile as fast as possible. No time for cuddling with a sister spinning through his daily life like a whirling dervish, eating up his time with mom and dad. Still, he adores her and the need to be a fully functioning part has driven our little boy to push himself to the limits. He wants to run through the house. He wants to dance. He wants swing his arms, tackle his dad, run up to mommy and give her a hug. He wants to totter after Amelia as she plays with her stuffed animals or chases down her “kickety kickball.”

The desire has him pushing the limits. He grunts, gets back up again, loses his balance and falls onto his side. He has achieved a very effective squiggle technique in which he worms and squirms his torso while digging with his arms like a little soldier. He kicks with his feet and, like a tortoise crossing the desert for a sip of cool water, he makes his way across the room to claim the treasured toy spied 10 minutes prior. However, Amelia often alters this path by moving that object about 10 times before he reaches it.

Really, it’s a matter of getting the mechanics right. Sometimes the poor little guy tries so hard, he digs his feet into the ground but forgets to bend his knees. With his legs straight and his arms out he pushes forward and grapples for the inch in front of him. Usually, all that is achieved is a heartbreaking face dive but slowly and surely, he is learning to crawl.

Amelia, as I recall, waited until she was almost nine or 10 months to crawl. The next month she was walking. Finn will likely surpass her in this regard. His determination is astounding, as he grunts and wiggles and jiggles forward. He has the sitting up thing pretty well down, however balance is still a battle with gravity. Crawling is his latest mission, and he will conquer it soon, I know it. To him, it seems almost a matter of survival, like the baby zebras who have to walk from birth in order to escape the lion’s jaws. His environment is not quite so harsh, except when Amelia uses her lion, Big Fella, which is as big as her, to get Finn.

Usually, after his workout, I give him a break. I pick him up and hoist him into the air, then I either hold him above me or we race around the room with him held in front of me, making little spaceship noises like the Jetson’s. My little Astro Boy cackles through the room, racing in free space with the air against his face and the freedom of motion rushing through him. He is elated and inspired.

When he hits the floor again, he is determined to take flight.