A Temporary Condition: Nine!

Here it is, the official nine month post...three days late, incidentally, but McMoose has been working from home all week and he and Luke have somehow worked it out so that every time Luke naps, McMoose has a phone meeting, which means that I NEVER, EVER get to use the computer.

It kind of blows my mind that Luke has been on the outside now for just as long as he was on the inside. I mentioned this to McMoose and he was all "Uh-huh" in a very unimpressed manner, so maybe this is the kind of thing that only matters to the person whose inside actually housed the baby for the first nine months, but I find it completely insane that it has been THAT long since I was pregnant. And also, I'd like someone to explain to me how come the nine months of pregnancy felt like they took an ETERNITY and the nine months since have felt like a blink of an eye.

So Luke crawls. I don't mean that in a "Hey, he finally figured out how to crawl" kind of way because I already wrote that in his eight month post. No, I mean it in a "Luke crawls. Every minute of every day, he crawls. In the middle of the night, he crawls around his crib, hits his head on the bars, and wakes up grouchy as a result. When I'm trying to nurse him, he crawls off my lap. When I'm trying to change him, he tries to crawl off the table" kind of way. He gets himself into some weird situations as a result--under the end tables, behind the clothes in the closet--basically, places where I would expect to find a Dog or Cat, but not a Baby.

Earlier this month, we had to take all the door stoppers off our walls because he got into the habit of pulling the white tips off and collecting them in his mouth. One morning, I noticed that he had been entertaining himself quietly for about 15 minutes, so I followed him around and realized that he had three of them in his mouth already and was going after a fourth. (He has now figured out which drawer we were keeping them in, so we'll probably have to move them soon.)

He also stands and cruises around the furniture and pulls Yellow Cat's tail, and then when Yellow Cat emits an annoyed "Mmmrrrr," Luke grins and replies, "Mmmm." (And then, he does it again, and again, and again. Earlier this month, Yellow Cat let us know that his patience with the baby had come to an end by scratching Luke's hand because Luke was following him around with a blanket in a misguided attempt to interest him in a game of peek-a-boo.) He goes after dog and cat toys every chance he gets, he pulls all the books out of his bookshelf, he tries to jump to reach things that are (purposely placed) out of his reach. He devours cheese and yogurt, but feeds his veggies to the Dog. He licks the walls (and laughs). He growls at the Dog (and laughs). He goes towards something he knows he isn't supposed to touch--the DVDs, a computer cord, my shoes--and then turns back to look at me, waits until I notice him and tell him "No," then grins, tucks his head down, and crawls as fast as he can towards the forbidden object. Oh, yeah, this kid is going to make a GREAT toddler in a few months.

Here he is, with a blanket draped over his head. This, incidentally, was the same blanket that was used later that day in the Yellow-Cat-peek-a-boo incident.