familyvalues

Owen is seven months old today.

One month ago, at his six-month checkup, we reported that he could sit flat on his butt if we put him there, but couldn't get there himself, and he wasn't entirely stable. When he turned suddenly to look or reach behind him, he'd topple. Now, he can sit steadily on his butt and move fluidly from there to his belly, and he can crawl like a champ (though he's not fond of our wood flooring, it's hard on his bare knees but slippery under pants, I'm thinking suede knee patches), and more startling for us, he can pull himself up onto anything and has begun cruising.

I am terrified.

Yesterday he was happily moving his hands between a chair, and the box full of books 180 degrees behind him, turning to face each thing, back and forth. When I met his eyes, I swear, he gloated.

We are doomed.

He isn't fond of avocado, cauliflower, mashed potatoes, winter squash, or carrots, so far. He likes blueberries, strawberries, bananas, mango, hummus on bread, rice cereal, apples, "mixed mexican food", baby cereal, broccoli, and, well, everything else. I have lost track.

He loves dogs, like he squeals with joy when we meet dogs out in public. Our dogs have trained him well.

He assumes everyone means him well, in fact. When we go to our beloved pharmacy, the staff greets him and comes out to chat with or even hold him. Target is the place where old people come to smile at him, just him. The world is here for Owen, and he greets it as if everyone on it is one of his loyal subjects and he is a benevolent ruler. He is a very easy child to fall head-over-heels in love with.

He used to go down for a nap easily, and he used to be freakishly not-fussy. These are fading with age, and he's becoming a normal child with normal nap resistance and normal fussiness. But these don't make him less loveable.

I'm looking so forward to the holidays with him. We're getting together in bits of family here and there, chosen and born, but also, a Big Family and extended family event, here at our home. Owen will be nine months old then, just right for loving the tissue paper and lights without being greedy about the getting. When I was little, Mom used to hang up her own socks for us as stockings. For Owen's first-thing-in-the-morning home stocking, I'm looking forward to doing that. (We'll allow the Santa-thing without trying to artificially enforce or extend it, I think, which is also what worked for me as a child.)

This kind of post is what happens when a baby's awake from 4-6 am then 7-9 am, mind you. Here, I'm sleepy. Have a post. :)