The little-one-who’s-not-so-little turned 7 months old yesterday. A whole month more than half a year. It’s mind boggling.
Right now, he is still super smiley and he laughs a lot.
He has five teeth; I think a sixth is probably close.
He army crawls and is pretty proficient at it, although he hasn’t yet seemed to grasp that he could move himself to Mama (or whoever) when he suddenly decides he wants to be held, instead of lying there crying.
He has a pretty firmly developed (although relatively new) pincer grip. He can pick up and feed himself puffs (and he’s gotten to where he can also crush them between his fingers, if he wants, too), and dead leaves, and dust bunnies …
He has learned that Mama can walk away and leave him. Even if he’s playing contentedly, either by himself or with Daddy, when I walk by, he cries.
He *loves* to watch and chase and
pull her hair pet the dog.
He enjoys being read to, when he can sit still long enough (which isn’t all that rare, actually).
He doesn’t really have a favorite toy.
He doesn’t like long car rides.
He likes eating food (pretty much everything he’s tried he’s gobbled down), but he clearly doesn’t think of it as sustenance yet.
He takes two naps a day, which hopefully total three hours or more. He goes to bed at 6:30 or 7 and wakes up at 6:30 or 7, sometimes (but not always) waking once or twice in the night. Sometimes when it’s time for sleep, he rejects any soothing efforts and reaches for his crib, crying until we put him down. It’s got a I’ll do it myself! feel to it.
He loves to bounce and jump, whether with his hands being held by someone, in the exersaucer, or in the Johnny Jump Up. Moving vertically is very fun.
He likes motorboat sounds and tickles. Buttons are fun, as is being outside. And windows. Mostly everything goes in the mouth. He likes playing peek-a-boo, and is sometimes the initiator.