You’re a baby on the move! Well, almost.
Lying down? Booooooring.
Sitting up? Boooooooring.
Standing up while we hold your hands, and then lunging forward and attempting to walk on your own? Best thing ever. I got this, guys.
You’re a big fan of what your dad and I call “baby twerking.” (Also, I sincerely hope that by the time you’re old enough to read this, twerking will no longer be a thing. It’ll just be, like, the Jitterbug. Old-fashioned and obsolete.) Mostly this is because you’re not quite steady when you stand up, so your hips take on a life of their own and wobble all over the place.
Endlessly entertaining for all of us, no doubt.
Standing is what you want to be doing all the time these days, which makes certain things challenging: changing your diaper, putting on pants, setting you down in your highchair. In all instances you turn into Baby Hulk, straightening your legs and flexing those muscles of steel. You are freakishly strong and I feel like I will break you if I try to get you to bend at the waist.
So I wait it out while you do your little baby plank. Inevitably you relax for just a moment and them I’m able to slip on your pants, or fasten your diaper, or slide your legs into the openings of your highchair.
Speaking of highchair, you’ve had some interesting food experiences lately. We’ve offered a wide variety of fruits and vegetables, and no matter how sweet, you pull a face like we’ve offered you something unfit even for the cats. I read somewhere that it can take a baby up to ten tastes of something before they decide that they like it (I have no idea if that’s true or not), so we just keep offering lots of different things. We have, however, found two exceptions that you really seem to like.
I should mention that even though you lost your flippin’ mind and got SO EXCITED when I gave you oatmeal, you have the exact same reaction when I hand you an empty spoon.
I think the oatmeal might just be collateral damage.
You are also strongly against being spoon-fed. You grab my wrist or hand and physically stop me from putting the spoon to your lips, then take the spoon from me and shove it into your own mouth. You are surprisingly adept at handling the spoon, so I usually just put a bit of oatmeal on it and then hand it to you.
Most of it dribbles out of your mouth and ends up all over your face and bib and hands and tray and arms and oh good lord, it’s in your hair, but I’m reasonably sure some it makes it into your belly.
Of course, I’m your mom and I worry about you not getting enough food, despite knowing that at this age food is more about exploring different tastes and textures, and working on your fine motor skills, than it is about actually, you know, eating stuff.
Your appetite has never been a problem, so I’m quite sure that once you’ve grasped the idea that food is for eating, and not just for playing with, they’ll be no stopping you.
Just don’t expect steak every day, ok?