Cool Like That

I didn't manage to get to the treadmill until 4:30 yesterday afternoon.  While I ran I tended my three older kids with Nanny Netflix, but baby girl couldn't get a good view of the computer through her three ample-headed siblings, so for the first time ever she came into my room with me while I ran.  I sat her up in the middle of my bed and gave her a toy and a blanket to occupy herself with.  She bounced on her bottom on the mattress all eager for our time together.

Then I stepped onto the treadmill and she looked a little concerned about the distance separating us.  But I gave her a smile and that set her to bouncing again.  Then I pushed the start button that said, "Beep!" and her eyes got wider.  I started walking as the belt got moving and she looked curious.  Then I started running and she looked at me like, "What in thee world."

And I said, "I know.  I know, baby girl."

Like all us humans, after a while she got accustomed to the absolute and certain weirdness of seeing a person run in place on purpose, and she fell asleep to the rhythmic clomp, clomp, clomp of my good and heavy feet.  Isn't it just amazing how adaptable we are?

I like to think of myself as particularly special in the adaptability department.  Say I'm out of baking soda - well, I'll adapt to the situation and use baking powder.  Say I wreck my car, I'll adapt and ride through rain, sleet, and snow on my bike, broken arm be darned.  Say I'm stuck in a foreign country without money, I'll adapt and starve myself and sleep in bathrooms perfectly content until I get home. 

See, we humans are built for moving forward.  We're just kind of cool like that.