She walked properly at fifteen months. Not the experimental stumbling of the months before, but actual walking, committed and upright, from the kitchen to the living room and back again with a satisfaction that was entirely her own.
Marcus and I were both home when it happened. He was working at the table and I was on the couch with a design brief when Ava stood up in the middle of the room, evaluated the distance, and walked to me.
We both went completely still.
She reached me, grabbed my knee, and looked up with the expression of someone who has completed a task they set for themselves and finds the result acceptable.
"Did she just," Marcus started.
"Yes," I said.
He crossed the room and crouched down and held out his arms and she turned and considered him and walked to him, and wh
