Eight Months In

He picks up finger food (puffs, cheese, etc.).  He eats finger food.  He will not pick up finger food to eat it.  Instead he opens his mouth like a little bird and waits for us to put the food in.  And the only way we can convince him to eat any solid food is by bribing him with a cup of water.  He loves that water stuff like his mama loves wine.

We're trying to teach him "no".  We're failing already.  Example...He hits me in the face.  I say "no" as sternly as I can.  He giggles.  I fight hard to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up.  Sweet Husband's shoulders start to shake, and his eyes crinkle up the way I love.  He turns away to hide his laughing face.  I give up.

He has found an appropriate use for the nasty green acrylic yarn (leftover from this project) I keep trying to foist off on someone.  While I love our little yarn parties, I do wish they could happen at 7 a.m. instead of 5.

He does not want to sit down, ever.  Our once happy bathtime has become...awful, really.  One of us holds him so he doesn't slip and break his head open.  The other washes him.  He screams like we're torturing him.  Fun, right?

Except that he gets a hoot out of sitting on his potty chair.  With reading material, of course.  We're just playing at it, but I'm a little afraid he's going to learn to go every time someone says, "Chicka chicka BOOM BOOM".