Last week the baby turned seven-months-old when I wasn’t looking. On Friday, while I started packing for our trip to Miami, he decided to start scooting. Then, as soon as he realized he could, he scooted over to EVERY DANGEROUS THING in the living room.
Hey Mama, here’s your breast pump!
Hey Mama, these stools are definitely going to topple onto my head!
Hey Mama, I can get in the kitchen! Ha ha!
Hey Mama, I’m gonna eat these race cars, okay?
I packed up and drove to Miami and pretended like none of it happened. Then I got home and put him down and he army-crawled all the way out of the room into his brother’s play room and started eating a toy dog bowl.
I’m screwed, people.
Time to get the baby gates back out. The baby gates I was only recently celebrating the packing-away-of when Chipmunk finally got enough damn sense in his head to keep his hands off the stove.
(But I’m proud of him, and it’s melting my brain heart that he’s crawling in the exact same goofy way his big brother did.)
His other recent “achievements” include:
- Sort of reaching up to be held.
- Growing some real hair in addition to his four mad scientist curls.
- Developing further hero worship over his big brother.
- Pushing to sit up on his own.
- Reaching out to be held when you go to pick him up.
- Babbling. He babbles “Ma ma ma ma ma ma” and I pretend like he means it.
- Opening his mouth eagerly for solids.
The biggest challenge right now, other than trying to figure out how to baby proof an open floor plan, is how easily distracted he is when he’s nursing. This is especially hard when Chipmunk is around. And now Chipmunk knows that he can piss me off by jumping onto the couch when I’m nursing or walking up to us and clanking toys around. Moose has gotten some serious milk showers from initiating letdown and then pulling off to goober at his brother.
Babyhood is going by too fast. I love this stage. When the moose wakes up from his naps I hurry in there to scoop him up and plant kisses all over his neck. He cough-giggles like a crazy person. His armpits are always stinky. He grins these big huge wet goofy grins when his Daddy comes home from work.
When Chipmunk was this age, I was always looking forward, anticipating the next steps, the next cool things. Now, with my fat moose, I grab onto each day and pretend like the next steps are months away.
This may or may not be related:
