Appointment with Baby E. on Thursday, which is also his grandma’s and uncle’s birthday. (NOT the same person, but don’t you wish it was, a little? This blog entry would be much more interesting.) I’ve resigned myself to getting low-to-no information at these well baby visits, because that has been the standard, even when I bring a bunch of questions.
Baby E. is gaiting all around the living room, but especially on the sofa and the playmat. By gaiting, I mean that we hold him under the armpits and lean him forward until his stepping reflex kicks in, and then he stomp-stomp-stomps all over — usually with one of us going “BOOM BOOM BOOM” or “STOMP STOMP STOMP” or big Godzilla roars. He’s also rolling from tummy to back, which isn’t much (especially for a 9-month-old (adjusted) baby) but is so exciting to us. Other exciting things we’re practicing: tummy time, sitting up, leaning, head control (yep, still), grabbing, and a billion other things suggested by the PT, OT, and now ST (speech).
He is smiling and giggling so much. It helps. Even when I think about how tough the future is going to be, it is easier now that he’s smiling again.
I watched the Kenneth Branagh Hamlet in segments with Baby E. sleeping on my shoulder. Srsly, KB? Flying sword, chandelier, and THEN the poisoned goblet? Maybe if the rest of it also felt as over the top, I wouldn’t have boggled.
Reading Babel-17 for the first time. Womanfully crushing the urge to delete all files and rip up all copies of The Big Dagnabit Novel in response.
Hey, when you buy racy things on Amazon, do your name and particulars still get fed into every laptop, desktop, mainframe, and supermarket scanner that collectively make up the global information conspiracy, otherwise known as… “the Beast”? Asking for a friend.