Saturday night strutting

We have to admit: Our first reaction was Huuunnnh? The thing looked like a pizza box on wheels, the sort of unsteady tippy-toppy, woopsie-daisy death trap yanked from store shelves eons ago.

The thingamajig -- I guess it's a walker -- was a gift from Hope's grandparents, Clem and Beef. They taught four kids to walk using the contraption, which is little more than a white piece of plastic, wheels and a little basket for a carriage.

It seemed hopelessly outdated, the toy equivalent of treating a cold with cod liver oil or leeches. But, hey, they're Hope's grandparents. They're good enough folks. We'd humor them, take it out of the box, throw it in the basement, move it to the living room when they visit and tell little white lies.

Of course, Hope's in love with the thing. Initially, she would hang out and play with her toys. Slowly, she learned Hey. If I stand up in this thing and lean a little, it moves. From there, she would lurch about the house, thrusting herself like Michael Phelps -- minus the boutique bong -- leaning toward the finish line.

Like parents seeking to strike a Pavlovian cue, we would encourage her with objects she desired -- a remote control, a straw, her own shoe. She'd huff. She'd puff. She'd lunge and lean until she got her prize and promptly plopped it in her mouth.

Now, she's using it to walk. Honest to goodness, across-the-living-room, Look at Me It's Saturday Night strutting. In no time flat, she'll be a menace to the cat, we're sure.

It's a sight to behold and another reminder that the ol' grandparents may yet have a few tricks. We're still not sure about the cod liver oil, the miracle cureall that is A&D ointment or claims that a little water with bay leaves can cure the common cold, but credit where credit is due ...