As late as my granddaughters began walking, they didn't pass that crucial eighteen month benchmark.
It was really getting embarrassing for a dedicated and devoted grandmother like myself. His peers have been walking and running in their third pair of shoes already, and all he did is dirty the knees of his pants.
The young man has been building tall towers from a very young age, performing hand-gesture songs forever and has started with "primitive sentences" already. But when I went home after babysitting yesterday, although he led me around walking while holding my hand, he wouldn't walk by himself.
About five minutes after I got home the phone rang:
"Your grandson is walking," reported my daughter, his proud and relieved mother. "He started with six and eight steps."
I'm not going to describe what she did, but since he had been coughing a lot and she couldn't decided whether or not to take him to the doctor, she used a technique their osteopath had recommended when he was much younger. Within minutes he stood up to dance with his sisters, let go and began to walk.
"Coincidence?" I couldn't tell you. Only G-d knows.