Words Cassidy Nunn
Photo Nunn Other Photography
My two-and-a-half year old hangs from our kitchen island, her feet resting on the drawer handles, her little hands clinging to the counter, splayed out like a starfish. She attempts to scale her way onto the counter but her efforts are thwarted as I gently pluck her off and place her back on the floor.
I go back to loading the dishwasher, but this lasts only half a moment as I see her out of the corner of my eye, dangling upside down, clinging on the freezer handle with her hands and feet. “You little monkey!” I say with a laugh, but she sees me coming and leaps down, then scurries off on all fours meowing like a cat. She disappears for a moment and I wonder where she is when I hear a faint meow coming from behind my closet door; she’s curled up in a ball in her old baby bassinet at the back of the closet.
She sees me and springs out of the bassinet, does a perfect tuck and roll and shimmies her little body underneath my bed. I sink down onto my tummy and try to reach for her – we’re going to be late for school drop-off – but she log rolls her way out from the other side of the bed, kicks the wall for whatever reason, then proceeds to climb the bed frame and bounce wildly, as if it’s a trampoline. “It’s time to go!” I say, hauling myself back up from the floor, and she responds with “mama, watch!” and proceeds to do her version of a somersault. Her older sister hears the commotion and comes flying into the room to join the fun.
We finally head out to drop my eldest off at school, but the walk there takes us ages as every curb simply must be climbed up on and walked along like a balance beam, every crack in the sidewalk simply must be leapt over and every painted line in the cross walk simply must be hopped on. The ground suddenly turns to lava and the only safe area to place a foot becomes the small patches of grass along the pathway.
The girls hop from patch to patch, landing on one foot while balancing precariously, arms spinning wildly in circles at their sides as they contemplate their next move. They giggle and scream, fall down, scramble back up and do it all over again.
Every walk these days becomes an intense toddler parkour session. Parkour, which often takes place in urban environments, is a self-led practice of movement where the practitioner has to use only their body to interact with any obstacles in the environment, similar to navigating an obstacle course. It can include running, rolling, jumping, flipping, climbing, swinging, vaulting from object to object – all the methods my toddler employs to move her body!
At this age, movement is vital to a toddler’s brain wiring and is helping to build strong connections between the body and the brain. It also explains why she can’t sit still at the dinner table for more than a few minutes – her brain is telling her to move!
After observing these daily toddler parkour sessions, I start to see the world around me in a different way: a brick path becomes an exercise in walking only on our tippy-toes to avoid each crack; the fence at the park becomes a ladder that can be scaled and every platform at the playground becomes the perfect launch pad for a 360-degree spin dismount.
While my body can’t quite keep up with the incredible number of movements my kids can do, it’s certainly keeping me more mobile and agile and most importantly adding more play to my everyday life.
