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February 26, 2002 - Tuesday
Harry nap this afternoon seemed like it was running long, pushing toward dinner, so his mother and I decided to take the opportunity to practice some music that we are working on for a memorial service this weekend. We play in a room down the hall from Harry's that's distant enough so sounds, with the door shut, are muffled enough not to wake a tired boy at night, but audible enough to stir a body that's ready to be roused.

Our house has the old fashioned door latches that you press down (for an adult it's usually with the thumb) on one side of the door and lift a lever on the other to unhook and open it. Harry's been able to reach up high enough with his index finger to pull down on that thumb plate for a while, but that's on the side of the doors entering rooms. The inside of his, and all the other rooms, is the lever side and he hadn't figure out quite how to lift that, yet. But, after we'd made it through our song once or twice, the latch on the music room's door began to move. As it did, I half-hoped that Harry's grandparents had made a surprise visit and had let themselves into the house. But, it didn't take long to confirm what I knew had happened: Harry had learned to let himself out of his bedroom and followed the sound of the music down the hall.

As with any of Harry's new accomplishments, there was great joy and huzzahs for Harry's new ability. But, just the same I sensed we were entering a new phase in our parental relationship with him. He now physically has the run of the house.

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