For someone who can’t crawl, Declan sure can move. This morning, he started on his play mat.

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And for awhile, fun was had.

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That blur you see is a set of teething keys that are apparently much more interesting if you flail them wildly from side to side with total disregard for human safety.

But why have keys if they can’t take you anywhere?

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So he decided to head out on the open road. Or carpet, in this case.

First, he rolled to the corner of the mat in search of his stuffed owl. Then he stared it, in what might have been an early attempt at telekinesis. Then, briefly, he appeared to go to sleep.

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But it was all a ruse. And he began to roll.

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And roll…

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And roll some more…

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Pretty soon, he’d forgotten about the owl and was after our bank statements.

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So I picked him up and moved him back to square one.

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But through a combination of rolling and arched-back butt scooting, he managed, once again, to escape the tyrannical rule of the play mat mobile.

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With keys triumphantly in hand, the symbolism could not be avoided. Movement is the key to life.

And we’re in trouble.

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