Kid's got a will of iron, and knows just how far he can go before he runs into some prohibition or other. Has perfected the stink-eye, complete with wrinkled nose. Has learned that he has to keep his hat on outside as we live on the surface of the sun, but will whip it off seconds after we get inside. He loves gravity, as it makes for a perfect game with mommy at the table, at the grocery store, in the kitchen: drop the spoon, the toy, the bottle--and this morning disastrously, his cup. He's learned to drink from a straw, and is a champ at drinking from a regular cup. The key problem is the throwing.
He's still cruising, pretty confidently. And he sits cross-legged now. It's too cute. He's perfected this playful swaggering speed-crawl, and swings his head from side-to-side when he's feeling mischievous. The best new game he plays is blowing on his dad and me: you know the blow-kisses you give to babies on their bellies? He gives them back. On his dad's belly, and on me while he's nursing. He giggles when he does it.
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