Through My Cooked Lens

Milestones, Motherhood, Comparison, and Crickets

Scrunchy Backyard Adventures

Today, my afternoon with my little man—who is now 13 months old—was a mix of adventure, learning, and a touch of existential pondering. Yes, I’m saying months, because there’s a world of difference between 13 months and 23 months, and that distinction matters.

Anywayyyyy, our big afternoon plan? Collecting eggs, playing outside, and soaking up some much-needed vitamin D—you know, that crunchy, all-natural medicine straight from the sun.

Now, let’s talk about shoes. I recently ordered some little sock shoes from Amazon because every time I put regular shoes on him, he moves like a cat with tape on its paws. Hilarious? Absolutely. But I can only laugh for so long before I just take them off and let him go barefoot. Personally, I believe that tiny, fresh-walking humans do not need shoes. However, I’m trying to get him used to them for daycare (so he can go outside) and to prevent him from stepping in an unfortunate mix of chicken/dog/cat/rabbit/etc. poop in our yard. Because while I do intend to keep him feral to some degree, I’m also a biologist by trade, and I draw the line at intestinal parasites.

Long story short, the sock shoes were a fail. Still a crazed kitten with taped paws. If you have tips, please, I’m all ears.

Once the shoes came off, things improved. My little explorer toddled around, picking “flowers” (a.k.a. weeds) and handing them to me—or eating them. And then, beneath his slide, I spotted a couple of crickets. I called him over, fully intending to be the brave mom who holds a bug and shows it to her child. Turns out, I am not that mom. So we called in Daddy.

Daddy picked up a cricket, showed it to Coop, and—of course—the cricket immediately leaped out of his hand. My lightning-fast toddler took off after it. Fortunately, this particular cricket was moving a little slow, which gave Coop the edge. He caught it with his sweet, chubby hands and was utterly amazed as it crawled over him.

At one point, he turned his hand over, expecting the cricket to hop off. It did not. He shook his hand because, apparently, he did not consent to this arthropod buddy clinging on like that.

And in that moment, as I watched my wild little boy, I had a thought. I recently finished his baby book—the one where you record all those “official” milestones. Walking, crawling, sitting, talking (this one has me slightly concerned). And I realized: Nowhere in that book does it ask, “When did he catch his first cricket?”

Well, the answer is today. April 2, 2025.

As a mother, I know I will inevitably be imperfect, and that’s okay. I was chosen by Jesus to be this boy’s mama, and I will do my best to honor that. But I’d be lying if I said I never felt the weight of comparison—watching other children seemingly hit milestones faster, wondering if I’ve somehow failed him because he’s 13 months old and maybe says five words on a good day. He doesn’t point to his nose or ears—just to things he wants or places he wants to go.

But today gave me clarity. There are so many things my little man can do that don’t fit neatly into those developmental checklists. And while gross motor skills, fine motor skills, and language skills are important, every child learns at their own pace. That doesn’t make anyone less.

So no, he’s not rattling off ten words. Maybe not even five. But he caught his first cricket. And in our house, that’s an important skill, too.

(P.S. I regret to inform you that I was not fast enough to save Mr. Cricket from an untimely demise. Cooper did, however, receive an important life lesson on the fragility of life. I’ll try harder next time to help him be a gentler steward of his tiny wild friends.)