Happy 8 Month Birthday!
Dear Connor,
Surprise! Dad is guest blogging this month. Sleep deprivation has robbed your mom of the ability to write (or think) in complete sentences.
No major milestones to report this past month. We were sure you were about to pop a tooth the other day -- you were grumpy as could be, and drooling like a waterfall. But still no sign of it. I feel like you're on the verge of a breakthrough with this crawling thing. You can go from sitting to crawling position, but haven't quite figured out how to propel yourself forward. Then, once that big head gets extended a little too far down you go. But, quite frankly, this house is probably a deathtrap, so it might be best for everyone if you wait a bit. Your walking is getting quite good -- you can (with assistance) go the whole length of the hallway.
And you can stand for short periods of time on your own. For the record, mom is the one living dangerously, letting you stand while she snapped the picture.
You're developing your own little whacked out sense of humor -- I can never tell what will get a big adorable cackling laugh out of you. Today, when I brought you to see the neighbor's dog, you laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing you've ever seen (and you've seen the dog several times before). The other day, when I put your teething toy in my mouth (to show you how it worked), you thought that was even funnier than the dog. Or the other day, when I was crawling around (once again, to show you how it worked), I thought you were going to get stomach cramps you were laughing so hard.
You've become quite a character at the dinner table. Basically, you reject any food that is intended for you. But you can't get enough of the exact same food as long as you think that you've captured it from someone's plate. For instance, peas. When I puree up some peas for you, you act as if they're poison. But you're perfectly happy to eat peas from the exact same bag off of mom's plate. I have to confess we've tricked you by planting food on mom's plate that we want you to eat. I have a bad feeling that this presages a stubborn independent streak (can't imagine where that comes from).
You've started to get out on the town a little now that the weather is nice. You went to baby night at the local movie theater a couple weeks ago. Boy, those lights and fans on the ceiling are cool. And baby happy-hour the week before.
You've learned to sit on my shoulders to get from place to place. Good thing, because you're getting pretty heavy to carry around. I'll still have to steady you, because you don't have the common sense not to jump. You've only spit up in my hair once so far; thanks.
Yesterday you went to opening day. The Nationals had a pretty poor showing, but it was a beautiful day. You made a few friends with the people behind us, they were quite impressed with the volume of food you consumed. Only a couple years til you can have hot dogs with me.
And tonight, bless you're little heart, you made it appear that I'm actually the superior parent in at least one respect. Let's just say I think I'll continue to be in charge of bath time.
Sadly, I think you caught your first cold this month. Your nose has been running like a faucet the past couple days. Boy, do you hate getting your nose wiped. It wouldn't be so bad, except you can't breath while you eat when your nose is all stopped up. You've taken full advantage of the situation to undo weeks of hard work with the sleep training.
Love,
Ed
Surprise! Dad is guest blogging this month. Sleep deprivation has robbed your mom of the ability to write (or think) in complete sentences.
No major milestones to report this past month. We were sure you were about to pop a tooth the other day -- you were grumpy as could be, and drooling like a waterfall. But still no sign of it. I feel like you're on the verge of a breakthrough with this crawling thing. You can go from sitting to crawling position, but haven't quite figured out how to propel yourself forward. Then, once that big head gets extended a little too far down you go. But, quite frankly, this house is probably a deathtrap, so it might be best for everyone if you wait a bit. Your walking is getting quite good -- you can (with assistance) go the whole length of the hallway.
And you can stand for short periods of time on your own. For the record, mom is the one living dangerously, letting you stand while she snapped the picture.
You're developing your own little whacked out sense of humor -- I can never tell what will get a big adorable cackling laugh out of you. Today, when I brought you to see the neighbor's dog, you laughed and laughed like it was the funniest thing you've ever seen (and you've seen the dog several times before). The other day, when I put your teething toy in my mouth (to show you how it worked), you thought that was even funnier than the dog. Or the other day, when I was crawling around (once again, to show you how it worked), I thought you were going to get stomach cramps you were laughing so hard.
You've become quite a character at the dinner table. Basically, you reject any food that is intended for you. But you can't get enough of the exact same food as long as you think that you've captured it from someone's plate. For instance, peas. When I puree up some peas for you, you act as if they're poison. But you're perfectly happy to eat peas from the exact same bag off of mom's plate. I have to confess we've tricked you by planting food on mom's plate that we want you to eat. I have a bad feeling that this presages a stubborn independent streak (can't imagine where that comes from).
You've started to get out on the town a little now that the weather is nice. You went to baby night at the local movie theater a couple weeks ago. Boy, those lights and fans on the ceiling are cool. And baby happy-hour the week before.
You've learned to sit on my shoulders to get from place to place. Good thing, because you're getting pretty heavy to carry around. I'll still have to steady you, because you don't have the common sense not to jump. You've only spit up in my hair once so far; thanks.
Yesterday you went to opening day. The Nationals had a pretty poor showing, but it was a beautiful day. You made a few friends with the people behind us, they were quite impressed with the volume of food you consumed. Only a couple years til you can have hot dogs with me.
And tonight, bless you're little heart, you made it appear that I'm actually the superior parent in at least one respect. Let's just say I think I'll continue to be in charge of bath time.
Sadly, I think you caught your first cold this month. Your nose has been running like a faucet the past couple days. Boy, do you hate getting your nose wiped. It wouldn't be so bad, except you can't breath while you eat when your nose is all stopped up. You've taken full advantage of the situation to undo weeks of hard work with the sleep training.
Love,
Ed
posted by Elaine at 11:41 PM
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