My little girl has a friend. They’ve known each other for about 18 months and are just one month apart in age. Within those 18 months much has happened.

One little girl was diagnosed with hip dysplasia, the other with hypermobility. While one was in a spica cast, the other was still mastering the art of crawling as her peers toddled around her.

It’s fair to say, both little girls have had a couple of obstacles thrown their way in the walking department. But both have overcome each hurdle to become funny, feisty, affectionate toddlers.

It was around 9 months ago that I wrote a post about my frustrations at my daughter’s inability to walk. I was tired and emotional about her constant attempts to get up and join in with others her age. I watched as she withdrew into herself, refusing to play, hiding her face in situations with more than one child.

When I wrote that post my friend told me, “Just wait until our girls can walk together, hand in hand.” I couldn’t really see a time when that would happen. I was so used to the image of one little girl sitting firmly on her backside while the other pulled herself around in a spica cast, that the thought of them running, jumping and dancing together seemed unattainable.

But this weekend it happened.

I watched, howling with laughter, with my friend Northern Mum, as our girls bent their knees in unison, crouching into a deep squat before rising a millimetre in the air, beaming with pride.

I watched as each girl chased the other around the room, trying to catch a kiss and a toddler bear hug.

I watched as they ran hand in hand around the living room, before ending in a pile of bendy limbs and snotty noses.

Our girls, walking, running, jumping (sort of).

Bendy friends together.


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