Flying is confusing.
So, Jim turned eight months a week ago, and he is big and mighty. He's a pretty personable little bugger this month. He's not super talkative - much more of a physical guy, really. But he does do some interactive stuff. He holds up his arms to be held, and if you're not fast enough with the holding, he tries to climb up your leg. Well, my leg, anyway. If I try to do something like, say, wash the dishes (or update my blog), he will stand clinging to my skirt and fussing until I attend to his loneliness. He also tries to imitate movements somewhat. If I wave my arm at him, he'll wave his back (up and down - hasn't quite figured out side-to-side).
Physically, he's a monster. Still teeny, of course, but he's now crawling on all fours like a stereotypical baby. If we're outside, he switches to bear crawling (hands and feet instead of hands and knees) because he hates the grass on his knees. He got his first grass-stain on his jeans in the park a few days ago - a proud, proud day. He can stand on his own, a little. He pulls up on everything (the couch, the fireplace, my hair) and then lets go to stand independently. Typically he looks astounded at his own prowess for about four seconds and then plops down on his butt.
Still one of his favorite foods.
He eats a ton. He gets lunch and dinner every day, and breakfast sometimes. He accidentally had a peanut butter cookie over Christmas and it did him no harm, so we've continued giving it to him. His favorite food of the week is a whole-wheat bagel with a little peanut butter on it. He likes his veggies, too, but with his tragic lack of teeth, they're a little tough to eat when raw. Oh, speaking of teeth - his second one just came in! It cut through yesterday right next to the other one.
I'll try to locate my camera and upload the recent pictures for your amusement. Until then, be amazed at Jim's ferocity.
Fear not, it's just barbecue sauce.
Edited to add OFFICIAL monthly pictures! I tried to be all cute and take the pictures in the comfort of his crib, but...
Either I stood close to the crib and he got all up in my face...
...or I stood far away and it was depressingly prison-y.
So here's what you get:
Fine. I'll pose with the damn bear.