One Finger

I just got back from a 4-day weekend with my granddaughter. She is 10-months old and walking now. She doesn't like to sit. She's either stretched out sleeping, standing at the side of her crib ready to be rescued, climbing onto the dishwasher door, or walking across the floor. It seems that she's forgotten how to bend in the middle. She stands in her bath, she stands in her wading pool, she stands in the middle of the floor drinking formula from her sippy cup.

One morning while her parents slept, I took her out for a walk on the front sidewalk. I put her chubby little hand in mine and off we went--her chubby little feet chugging along beside me. We made it all the way to the driveway before she stopped, stood by herself a little unsteadily, and removed her hand from mine. She separated my fingers carefully and grabbed one to hold onto and took off again. The one-finger grasp. I thought that she found the grasp of my large hand around her small one too confining, too claustrophobic, that she didn't want to be that dependent on me. She continued to do this whenever we walked--I grasped her hand by instinct, she stopped, unhooked her hand from mine, and fastened onto one finger. She liked the pinkie best which was rather uncomfortable so I would offer the index finger instead and we were off again.

I mentioned this to my youngest daughter, my granddaughter's very own Auntie Em, when she called a couple of days later to see how we were doing. Well, Auntie Em understands her niece better than I for she said, "She probably does that because her hand is so small and it is easier for her to hang onto one finger than your whole hand."

Ah, yes, the one finger approach. How much wiser we would all be were we to take the one-finger approach to dependency. Letting the other person know just what we need--no more, no less--in order to advance in the direction of our own dreams.