Well, two days shy of 8 months, but who’s counting.
Baby G doesn’t show up much on the blog… he’s very popular on Twitter, and pictures of him set many ovaries dancing, or so I’m told.
He’s just such an uncommonly good baby, 99% of the time, and good babies are terrible blog fodder – or they are if you tend to write humour. Good babies do not provide much opportunity for hilarity.
But! Sibling rivalry will some day rear its ugly head, so I’ve got to be more balanced. Plus I don’t keep baby books. Because I am a slacker.
So at eight months, this is where we are:
- He’s got four teeth – all in the front, two on the top and two on the bottom.
- He crawls very fast, and climbed stairs on one memorable (read: scary because I wasn’t there until he was halfway up) occasion.
- He pulls up on everything he can, although no sign of cruising yet, thank goodness. Harry walked at nine months and it was AWFUL. Slightly older walkers make me happy.
- He eats everything, not only in terms of the variety of foods he’ll take in but the sheer alarming quantities. On Sunday morning he had a bowlful of oatmeal with blueberries, most of a fried egg, a couple of handfuls of Cheerios, some grapes, two pieces of orange, and a tiny Tim tomato. This after nursing. and that’s not unusual, by the way.
- Just this week he started very clearly saying “Mama”. Which sounds really sweet until you find out that what he actually says is “MAAAAAA-MAAAAAA!!!!” while crawling toward me in a red-faced panic. Learning my ‘call-sign’, as Michael calls it, just in time for the eight-month separation anxiety phase to kick in is just delightful, let me tell you.
- He is a very happy, smiling, giggling baby most of the time. When the food isn’t coming fast enough, he switches pretty quickly to loud, persistent yelling, but generally speaking he’s just a happy little homer.
- He worships his big brothers, already. He is forever trying to get into their room. To their credit, they love him right back, and have been known to voluntarily pick up their Lego if they hear him coming down the hallway, so he can go in the Sacred Sanctum for a visit.
- He’s going through a bit of an “I’m not so sure about Daddy” stage right now. Especially when he’s upset, or just after he’s woken up. I was contemplating night-weaning – after all, he certainly doesn’t need the calories – but his two just-like-clockwork night feedings are not actually that big a strain; he eats quickly and drops right back to sleep once returned to the crib, whereas if I sent poor Michael in there instead there would be tears and screaming, almost certainly. This way everyone is getting more sleep, and I’ll look at night-weaning him in another month.
- He loves animals, and actually noticed several of them when we took him to the zoo yesterday. Although watching the lions get fed was not nearly as interesting as petting the zoo owner’s pug, who sat by my feet during the proceedings. DOGS! Oh, how he loves dogs. Especially our dog, who puts up with his completely accidental abuse with gentle good humour – even when the little perisher actually bit the poor thing’s ear one day in an over-the-top expression of affection and joy.
- We have a 22lb infant car seat, and he’s about a half-pound away from needing a bigger one. Also, he wears 18 month sweaters, shirts, and onesies because he has a giant long torso. He’s still in six month pants because he has short fat legs.
- He doesn’t have a single pair of shoes, because his feet are so wide. I really need to remedy that before it gets much colder.
He’s a daily joy, my wonder-baby, and I finally feel like our family is finished. We fit neatly together, and it feels good.
Besides: look at this face.