The Kid graduated to the big bathtub this week. While he is now fully capable of crawling, he'd rather stand thankyouverymuch, even in the tub. His baby bath was making it all too easy for him to pull up, so it had to go. (Not that he hasn't figured out how to pull up in the big tub too, it's just a little more work...for now.) Both the Kid and his porpoises (our family bath time deities) approve of the bigger pool.
In related news, the Kid has also begun crying when we leave him at daycare. When I got back from my roadtrip last week, Sweet Husband asked, "What do you do when he cries when you drop him off at school?" I was a little bemused at the question, because he's never cried when I drop him off. I not-so-secretly wondered if this wasn't a case of taking-advantage-of-Dad-while-Mom's-away.
Until he did it to me several times this week. Stinker.
To be fair, this is probably my karmic retribution for thinking--a little smugly--during that first month of daycare, "He's such a sensible, friendly little guy--he never cries when we leave him with new people."
But really it hasn't been too bad. First, I know he has a blast there, so it's hard to feel too sorry for him as I kiss him 'bye and quickly walk away. Second, I remember when Sweet Sister was in this phase (she's 17 years younger than me, so I did occasionally drop her off for my mom). She could throw truly spectacular tantrums, so (thus far) the Kid's got nothing on her.