8 Months

My darling boy is 8 months old now. He crawls like greased lightning, he smiles with his entire being, and he laughs loud enough to melt the hearts of the population of several surrounding counties.

His favorite toy is a spoon (unless he can get his hands on the TV remote), and he wishes that socks and hats were never invented.

He's endlessly fascinating to me and I can't imagine a better kid in the universe.




He's also Massive Headwound Harry today. He woke up with a huge scratch between his eyes this morning, and this evening he wonked his head on a coffee table. The subsequent bruise was immediate and epic, but it barely fazed him and seems to have gone down now. The kid either needs to learn the fine art of balance, or I have to gear up for a childhood full of ER visits.

Doofy.

Peace is in the air.

Ivan got his hands on a kitty toy that doesn't make me say "No no no no! Get that out of your mouth!". I'm not saying I WANT him to put it in his mouth, but so far he's been content to wave it at the cats and practically pee himself with glee when they respond with something other that disdain and/or fear.





P.S. I'm going to make April into another NaBloPoMo (if you don't know what that is, Google it or let your imagination run wild.). At first I thought this would be impossible because we'll be in SC for a week, closing on the house and moving into said house, but I've decided to take it as a challenge (Or, I'm stupid. Whatever.) Either way, it'll be fun to steal my sister's iPhone and post daily pictures of the kiddies on the beach...

I've been having "Bad Mommy" thoughts. I feel like I should (I hate that word) be documenting all his little milestones, but I don't. I filled out the fist page of both a baby calendar and a baby book, but never moved on from there.

Cabin fever.

Speed Racer

Since the crawling began I have realized what a complete deathtrap our apartment is. Seriously - there are cords everywhere and sharp corners and brewing equipment and musical instruments and yarn and three hole punches strewn about the place! I don't even notice most of it until it is on it's way into his mouth/onto his head.

He is fast, too. In the blink of an eye he can go from the relative safety of the living room to being wrist-deep in the cat's water bowl and about to lick the remnants of last night's chicken liver paté.

He'll eat anything, too. I know it's the way babies explore their world, but this world doesn't include a housekeeper. I've nipped that in the bud by making sure he has a pacifier in his mouth when he's on the floor.

He's also learned that now that the apartment is his oyster he doesn't have to play with all the stupid toys his mommy and daddy have lovingly dangled at him for the past seven months. He can now enjoy the hollow thump of a cottage cheese tub. Or the subtle humor of a twist tie (see below).

I've gotten pretty good at running after him and scooping him up before he dives head first into the kitty litter box. I take my victories where I can get them.

Get Up, Stand Up!

Stand up for your rights!

He pulled himself up to standing today!

My darling kid.

One of the few pictures of the boy and I. The Android isn't quite as much of a shutter bug as I am - I had to beg him to take pictures of us last night.

You call him WHAT?

I'm a big old copycat. I admit it. I got the subject of this post here. And here.

We don't call him The Czar at home. For some reason it never caught on.

I think it started with Bud. Then Buddy. Then Buddybutt.

Then Butterbutt (That's all Android. I have no idea).

It finally settled on Butter. Not to be confused with Butters.

Depending on our respective moods he's also: Puddin' Pop, Mister Man, Demon Child and Your Baby.

It's PBS so it's okay, right?

It started with Sesame Street. I plunked him down in front of the TV in his Bumbo and he seemed to enjoy it.

Now I am a PBS Kids connoisseur. I like It's a Big, Big World (it's a seriously awesome show), I hate Caillou (he annoys the guts right out of me), I like Curious George, but Super Why! is kinda dumb. I can give or take DragonTales.

In my defense, he usually watches about a half hour twice a day. But that time is a sweet, sweet respite from the climbing and the crawling and the pulling up and the eating of things that he shouldn't. I'm taking what I can get.