Weston is 10 months old today!
He is asleep right now and looks remarkably toddler-esque, lying there all sprawled out instead of scrunched up like a baby.
He decided to celebrate the occasion by growing a tooth, which I discovered yesterday when he used it to bite my finger. I mean, he had been kind of grumpy for a couple of days and McMoose and I were all, "What's up with the baby? Is he teething? Does he still have the ear infection from earlier this month? Has he been possessed by demons?" But the thing about babies is that you never do get a definitive answer to any of those questions, so we just kind of waited and voila! Tooth! Sadly, his version of a kiss is to suck on/bite people's faces, so I've had to prevent him from kissing me all day today and I. Don't. Like. It.
Oh, and about the ear infection: when we went to his 9-month check-up, I mentioned that he had been coughing for the better part of a month, but had no other symptoms and the doctor immediately said, "Oh, sure, he probably has an ear infection." To which I responded, "Huh?" Because really? Coughing as an indicator of an ear infection. Yes, apparently so. But since he didn't have any other symptoms, she wrote us a prescription on paper instead of just sending it to the pharmacy and said to fill it if we felt that he was getting worse and ignore it if we thought he was okay. He did seem to get better, so we ignored it, which is why I was glad to see that the grumpiness of the past couple of days were due to the tooth because if it had been because of the ear infection--well...what's the statute of limitations on a paper prescription, anyway?
He now has perfect control over standing up and squatting back down without holding onto anything. In fact, the other day, he very much resembled a prairie dog: stand up, look around, squat down, crawl a few inches, repeat. But still, he's not terribly inclined to do anything about forward motion once he's standing; a fact for which I'm infinitely grateful. Because really, when he does his fast-crawl, it takes me a little while to catch up to him, even if I run...I can only imagine how fast he'll be once he's bipedal.
He is starting to enjoy some of the pieces of baby equipment that have been languishing for the past few months, most notably, the doorway jumper and the various strollers. Luke loved the doorway jumper until he started to crawl. Weston had no use for it until just the other day, when he realized that--hey, he could jump! And dance! So we put on some music and he clapped his hands and jumped and danced in the jumper and Luke and I clapped our hands and jumped and danced in front of the jumper and we all had a great time. And 10 minutes later, we went outside and the neighbor across the street, who had been mowing the lawn, informed us that our "dance party" had looked like fun. Um, awkward!
Ah, and on that note, he claps and clicks his tongue and squeals, all in response to someone else doing it first. In other words: he communicates! He also signs "More." Well...kind of. He holds his hands above his head and waves them around and yells, "Mmmmmaaa! Mmmmaaaa!" The actual sign for more is...very, very different from that. But he uses it consistently and if we ask him whether he wants more, he makes that combination of gesture and vocalization, so whatever. That's the Weston-sign for more. (In fact, one of our friends is even starting to recognize that sign because he does it so frequently. So not only is he communicating, he's communicating with people outside of our immediate family. Hooray!) He continues to say "Mama" and "Dada," and has added "Ba-ba," which is accompanied by a wave, so we're assuming it's bye-bye. And "Ba," which we're assuming is ball because he usually says it when he sees or is playing with a ball. (Luke started soccer this month. Weston is obsessed with the balls. He spends the ENTIRE TIME trying to get out of my arms so that he can go get the balls. More on that later.)
As I said in my last post, he likes to play catch. He also likes to play "Minnow," which is a game that he and Luke invented. There's an inflatable pool in Luke's room that's filled up with little balls to serve as a ball-pit and they both "swim" around in it. Weston is the minnow and Luke is the shark or duck or bear or whatever he wants to be that day. And he likes to empty containers--toy boxes, the laundry basket, and if left unattended for a fraction of a second, the trash can in the bathroom. (As a result of which, he is not left unattended, ever, unless the bathroom doors are closed. The cats, who have water bowls in the bathrooms, are not pleased about this.)
He is hopelessly fascinated by the toilet paper roll, wires, and the aforementioned trash cans. Oh, and these little bells that we try to keep away from him, but that he stuffs into his mouth at every given opportunity. He also really enjoys the cats. (The cats do not really enjoy him. Nor are they pleased that HE really enjoys THEM. Surprisingly, neither of them have scratched him--a rather impressive feat of self-control, given the fact that he frequently chases and climbs on them before I can stop him.)
He climbs. Everything. He loves going to the playground now because he has figured out how to climb the slide and then slide back down on his belly. In the past, I'd put him in the carrier on my back and he'd watch from up there. Now, as soon as he sees the playground equipment, he starts throwing his body around like an angry catfish, clamoring to get down and get to the slide.
I'm enjoying all the babyish things about him even as he becomes more like a toddler with every passing day.
He is asleep right now and looks remarkably toddler-esque, lying there all sprawled out instead of scrunched up like a baby.
He decided to celebrate the occasion by growing a tooth, which I discovered yesterday when he used it to bite my finger. I mean, he had been kind of grumpy for a couple of days and McMoose and I were all, "What's up with the baby? Is he teething? Does he still have the ear infection from earlier this month? Has he been possessed by demons?" But the thing about babies is that you never do get a definitive answer to any of those questions, so we just kind of waited and voila! Tooth! Sadly, his version of a kiss is to suck on/bite people's faces, so I've had to prevent him from kissing me all day today and I. Don't. Like. It.
Oh, and about the ear infection: when we went to his 9-month check-up, I mentioned that he had been coughing for the better part of a month, but had no other symptoms and the doctor immediately said, "Oh, sure, he probably has an ear infection." To which I responded, "Huh?" Because really? Coughing as an indicator of an ear infection. Yes, apparently so. But since he didn't have any other symptoms, she wrote us a prescription on paper instead of just sending it to the pharmacy and said to fill it if we felt that he was getting worse and ignore it if we thought he was okay. He did seem to get better, so we ignored it, which is why I was glad to see that the grumpiness of the past couple of days were due to the tooth because if it had been because of the ear infection--well...what's the statute of limitations on a paper prescription, anyway?
He now has perfect control over standing up and squatting back down without holding onto anything. In fact, the other day, he very much resembled a prairie dog: stand up, look around, squat down, crawl a few inches, repeat. But still, he's not terribly inclined to do anything about forward motion once he's standing; a fact for which I'm infinitely grateful. Because really, when he does his fast-crawl, it takes me a little while to catch up to him, even if I run...I can only imagine how fast he'll be once he's bipedal.
He is starting to enjoy some of the pieces of baby equipment that have been languishing for the past few months, most notably, the doorway jumper and the various strollers. Luke loved the doorway jumper until he started to crawl. Weston had no use for it until just the other day, when he realized that--hey, he could jump! And dance! So we put on some music and he clapped his hands and jumped and danced in the jumper and Luke and I clapped our hands and jumped and danced in front of the jumper and we all had a great time. And 10 minutes later, we went outside and the neighbor across the street, who had been mowing the lawn, informed us that our "dance party" had looked like fun. Um, awkward!
Ah, and on that note, he claps and clicks his tongue and squeals, all in response to someone else doing it first. In other words: he communicates! He also signs "More." Well...kind of. He holds his hands above his head and waves them around and yells, "Mmmmmaaa! Mmmmaaaa!" The actual sign for more is...very, very different from that. But he uses it consistently and if we ask him whether he wants more, he makes that combination of gesture and vocalization, so whatever. That's the Weston-sign for more. (In fact, one of our friends is even starting to recognize that sign because he does it so frequently. So not only is he communicating, he's communicating with people outside of our immediate family. Hooray!) He continues to say "Mama" and "Dada," and has added "Ba-ba," which is accompanied by a wave, so we're assuming it's bye-bye. And "Ba," which we're assuming is ball because he usually says it when he sees or is playing with a ball. (Luke started soccer this month. Weston is obsessed with the balls. He spends the ENTIRE TIME trying to get out of my arms so that he can go get the balls. More on that later.)
As I said in my last post, he likes to play catch. He also likes to play "Minnow," which is a game that he and Luke invented. There's an inflatable pool in Luke's room that's filled up with little balls to serve as a ball-pit and they both "swim" around in it. Weston is the minnow and Luke is the shark or duck or bear or whatever he wants to be that day. And he likes to empty containers--toy boxes, the laundry basket, and if left unattended for a fraction of a second, the trash can in the bathroom. (As a result of which, he is not left unattended, ever, unless the bathroom doors are closed. The cats, who have water bowls in the bathrooms, are not pleased about this.)
He is hopelessly fascinated by the toilet paper roll, wires, and the aforementioned trash cans. Oh, and these little bells that we try to keep away from him, but that he stuffs into his mouth at every given opportunity. He also really enjoys the cats. (The cats do not really enjoy him. Nor are they pleased that HE really enjoys THEM. Surprisingly, neither of them have scratched him--a rather impressive feat of self-control, given the fact that he frequently chases and climbs on them before I can stop him.)
He climbs. Everything. He loves going to the playground now because he has figured out how to climb the slide and then slide back down on his belly. In the past, I'd put him in the carrier on my back and he'd watch from up there. Now, as soon as he sees the playground equipment, he starts throwing his body around like an angry catfish, clamoring to get down and get to the slide.
I'm enjoying all the babyish things about him even as he becomes more like a toddler with every passing day.
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