Wow, we're finally at the point where he's been around as long as it took to bake him. Once you have kids you can't remember life without kids.Instead of a plain picture this month, here's a pic of Nick under the piano. He gave up the Nuk for a few months, but I think the impending cutting of teeth led him back to it. (That, and with the PC back in the shop... again... I don't have many pictures to post. Will get them added soon.)
Nick went from rolling to 'storming the beach' to crawling to standing to walking along the furniture in less than a month. We kinda expected a little more time in between stages to prepare for each one. With all the added range of motion, however, comes the collateral damage... to himself. He constantly looks like a bruised tomato with red spots and lumps all over. I swear he has no concept of how large his head is - runs into furniture and cabinets, lifts it under tables, and drops stuff like shampoo bottles on his own head. The re-arranging of furniture to dictate the preferred path has begun.
You'll see in the pictures along with his toybox (which was mine, a gift from my grandparents) there is a rocking horse that was made for me by my great-grandfather. Another hand-me-down but it seems to chew just fine for Nick. There's gotta be some domestic lead paint in that horse. I suppose he can only consume what's left from my gnawing days. He's already so strong he's tipped it over on top of himself more than he's actually rocked in it.
He had a great time at William Robinson's Second Birthday Party, where I witnessed firsthand my son being mobbed like a rockstar by crowds of adoring women (they were all 5 years old or under.) It was quite an entry. They were rubbing his bald head and kissing and hugging him, and he didn't even attempt to resist. My pride grows every day. He was ready to sweep Abigail, who is more than a year older than him, off her feet as he made his grand exit. Sweeping a woman off her feet is all the more of an accomplishment when you can't even walk by yourself (because of inexperience not inebriation, although I know some of you out there who have tried your moves while intoxicated, and it was rarely a pretty sight.)
He loves to tear through the house in exploration on all-fours, and has a familiar pattern. You can tell where he has been without seeing him there - it's like a bread-crumb trail. He tips over the Hemingray (there's a term you young people can Google), kisses himself in the full-length mirror leaving slobber marks, and then drags bedroom slippers (which are soggy when he's done munching them) across the room. Best munching of the month - the Goodyears on my car (which you know are clean and sanitary.) The boy loves women, cars and SportsCenter. And a good bottle now and then. He's just one of the guys.
- Jason
