Olive has a little pushcart that we alternately call her car or walker. But when you dress her in a pink plush tracksuit that makes her look a little bit like a baby girl version of Paulie Walnuts from The Sopranos, well, then I don't know what you call it.
Olive is getting increasingly more confident with her walking. First, it was shuffling from one end of the coffee table to the other, then moving around the legs of chairs at the kitchen table. Now she loves doing laps of the house holding on to your hands as you walk behind her desperately hoping that your back doesn't give out or you don't trip and crush her. Cause that would be hard to explain.
You might notice from the video that Olive has mastered walking forward, but hasn't really figured out how to turn. She would have a blast on a drag racing track, but in our house, she tends to push her car five feet, hit a wall, flounder for 10 seconds like a malfunctioning Roomba, and then looks around for mom or dad to save her.
I want to discourage the walking as much as possible. Mostly because when she is able to walk on her own then I can't leave her alone. I may not shower when Leanne goes away on business trips. Right now it is so easy. Just sit her down and put a bucket of toys in front of her. That buys you 15 minutes. A walking baby? Buys you 15 seconds before she heads straight for the knives or the basement stairs.
Leanne, however, is all about mobile baby. I'm pretty sure that when I'm gone she pulls out a little baby-sized treadmill and runs Olive through a series of workouts. If my daughter's first words are "lactate threshold" then my hypothesis will have been proven correct.