This flash arrived yesterday from Allen, Texas: Emma Nicole has taken her first step.

OK, you’re asking: What’s the big deal? Emma happens to be our granddaughter, courtesy of our son and daughter-in-law. She lives about six hours away just north of Dallas.

It pains me that we cannot be there to watch her take off like a sprinter now that she’s officially on her feet. We’ll get there soon enough.

Emma happens to be about one week shy of turning 11 months of age. Depending on who’s telling you this, she’s either (a) getting on her feet quickly or (b) is starting to walk at just about the right age.

Indeed, it’s been a long time since my wife and I have welcomed this kind of news. It’s been about, oh, 38 years, which is about the time the younger of our two sons — Emma’s daddy — pulled himself up off the floor and started motoring through the house.

My wife and I have laughed over many years about how our sons managed this feat. They did it differently, which goes to illustrate how different they are temperamentally. Son No. 1 just hoisted himself off the deck and started walking, then running — quickly. Son No. 2 would stand, take a step and then plop down on his padded rear end; we would laugh, making him laugh and then he would do the same thing repeatedly.

That was so long ago, but the memories are burned indelibly into our minds. Kids have a way of doing that, yes?

Time will tell — and probably quite soon — just how little Emma is going to proceed from here. I do know that life will not be the same for her parents or her two much older brothers, who have been as wonderful and doting on their little sister as one can possibly imagine.

I’ll offer this word of advice to those two fine young men: Stay on your toes, boys. You’ll now need to be alert every waking minute of every day for as long as little Emma is nearby.

I offer the same advice to her parents.

This is a game-changer. Bring it, little girl.