I had my Friday night all planned, and it was going to work out perfectly. In other words, the race would end at almost exactly the same time the Giants game would start. For later on, I had Shaun of the Dead queued up on the DVD player. That’s not everybody’s perfect Friday night, but I felt good about it.

Then Tammy called. We had talked earlier about my taking some photos of the items they are trying to sell, so she could post them on line. She and David (and the boys, too, I suppose) are suddenly in full house moving mode. They’ve found a new place, a little closer to me, in a somewhat better neighborhood and with a much larger kitchen. I haven’t seen the inside yet, so this is all I know.

Well, you know me. Even though D.J. and Dakota are at their father’s house this weekend, I jumped at the chance to spend some time with Aiden. And, of course, his parents. I like them, too, but they haven’t just learned to walk. I had to see this new skill Aiden has come up with, at the age of eleven months.

It’s real walking, too, although the wide stance he uses for balance limits his range of motion just a little. But you can tell he’s doing it on purpose. Before, he was taking a few steps without realizing he was walking. Now, he stands up in the middle of the room and takes off. It’s usually only a few steps before he plops down backwards, but still. It’s obvious he’ll be running by the time they move into the new house in a couple of weeks.

He has more words, too. “Puff,” he’ll say, and point to the finger food he wants someone to put in his highchair tray. “Dog” is his stuffed puppy, which he will hug tight, saying “Awwww.” Which is a word he hears a lot. So is “butt,” which is what his parents say when they pat him in that area. “Butt. Butt. Butt.” I think he’s ready for a trip to church, don’t you?

Mostly he laughs, loud and hearty. Or squeals with delight. When I left tonight, he was singing, something from the heavy metal era in that high register that is so popular with the head bangers. I think David was hoping he would soon tone it down to easy listening and drift off to sleep, but sleep is something he fights no matter how tired he is. He and I have that in common.

Everyone is happy for this young family as they move to their next house. It won’t be the last move they make, but it’s a step up. It’s all on one level, no stairs to climb (and no chance for the big boys to escape to a place babies can’t go). Best of all, they’ll be ten minutes away from me instead of twenty. That’s not necessarily a benefit for them, but it is for me.