Happy baby boy in the middle of pillaging through the house. This is his main occupation nowadays. That orangey-brown stuff around his mouth is pork sung. He managed to get his mitts on the container, pry it open, and help himself. He likes it.
Pillagers must rest and recuperate periodically.
Mayhap I will see what is on the television.
Never fear- our tiny hero is not the one weeping and gnashing.
Though we have had the appearance of That Which Will Not Be Named (okay- one time. Will. Opinions. Obstinancy. His mother is so laid back. HOW CAN THIS BE!?!?!), it is entirely age appropriate, and mostly very funny. So sorry kid- go ahead and call Human Rights Watch, I'm not letting you suck on a battery. Deal with it.
Bunting's Mama is the one weeping and gnashing, for she is soooo not ready for her boy to be growing up so very fast. It's too much!! He is such a boy now. No trace of baby left.
No more crawling. Or nursing. Or mushed up food. And as of yesterday- no more bottles.
We take hydration very seriously around here
Gratuitious bedhead and nom-nom cheek shot. I won't judge you if you lean in and and try to bite that cheekage through your monitor.
So. What's new in Buntingland, you ask?
Well, no more bottles. But we covered that already.
Oh yes- this:
Yes. Your eyes do not deceive you. The child has figured out how to climb, lord have mercy. He climbs! Everything! Every waking moment.
Yesterday he pushed the footrest in his room over to the changing table, climbed up onto it, and was pondering how to climb up onto the changing table.
Today he figured out how to climb up onto the big easy chair at Gigi's house. He just hikes up his chubby little leg, way up past his hip, grabs whatever he can to get purchase and et voila! He's up.
This. This is what things are like around here.
I need more coffee.
He is such a little engineer. A problem solver.
He found a piece of cellophane, and all on his own, figured out how to insert it into his ball popper toy, and then turn it on so it would shoot out.
See for yourself:
The insane wheezy laughter is yours truly. The artillery themed commentary is all FRK.
Have I ever mentioned how much I love folding tiny laundry? No? Well, I do. When I was a nanny, I always enjoyed putting the kidlets down for a nap, and sitting in a quiet house and folding tiny clothes.
I still love it. I know that irrevocably, time marches on, and his clothes will get bigger and bigger.
This very day is the 2nd anniversary of Mama's death.
Mepher spent the day with us, which was wonderful. Oh how we miss her. How I wish Mama could meet my little boy. They would get on like peas and carrots. I can't believe that she is gone, and he will never know her.
So I sit and fold his little shirts and pants, and do my very best to live in this moment.
Look at these yummy feet! He always hooks them on the tray like so.
And drink more coffee.
Bunting will join me.
