He crawled to the patio doors himself. Climbing, crawling, cruising. The faster he moves, the prouder we are.
Andy spent nearly three hours trapped in a parking-lot-turned-snow-cave this morning, locked out of work, finally using his feet to kick a path out, then forcing his car down poorly plowed streets to try to get home to us. To say I was worried is to put it mildly. Forced to park in a lot near our home, he then ran through two-foot drifts of snow to arrive at our blocked front door.
The blizzard has trapped our little family indoors now, lucky to be safe and warm.
Fletcher is up to five teeth and counting. He's working on pulling himself up, loves standing more than ever, and is a breath away from officially crawling on his knees.
Next winter, Fletch, you can play in it.
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