Nine weeks and counting.

If you can't guess what he's smiling at, you clearly haven't been following along. Hint: it begins with 'c' and rhymes with 'eiling fan.'


Weeks one, five, and nine. He looks like he shrank this week, but it's just the distance from camera to Jimmybear.

Things of Note:

• He's really talkative now. He goes ooooh, and aaaah, and ooooaaah (please tell me that's not a sign that he'll join the Army - just watched Black Hawk Down and I'm hoping he decides to be an accountant or something - anything but the military). Occasionally he goes ah-GOOOO! This use of consonants is clearly a sign of early genius.
  
• His eyes have shown no signs of changing. They're still dark blue in most lights. I'm pretty sure he's destined for brown eyes, which are very nice and all, but I still hope he lucks out genetically and gets my green ones. For the time being, though, they're still slate blue.
  
  Too hot for clothes here in GA. We're a house of nudists.
  
• Jim and I have been getting out and about more. It's pretty easy to pop him out of the car seat and into the ring sling, so that's what we've been doing. He seems to like being able to have his head up so he can look at everything, but he gets a little overwhelmed after about two hours, so that's our limit. This week he went to Borders, the fancy grocery store, Walmart, the pet store, and the liquor store. Ahhh, freedom.
  
• Head control is improving at an alarming rate. He barely even wobbles when held up, unless he's groggy and doesn't feel like making the effort to support himself. There's a joke somewhere in that last clause about unemployed basement-dwelling twenty-year-olds, but I can't find it.
  
  "Look, Simba, one day all of this will be yours..." "What, the bookshelves?"