He's one year old! He can feed himself quite well, mostly without choking. He can use spoons and sporks (hee, sporks). When it comes to his favorite foods, that entails cramming fistfuls in his mouth like a starved chipmunk. Ever see a chipmunk eating goldfish? Not a pretty sight.
His locomotion skills have greatly improved, and he now staggers about everywhere. Recently he learned how to climb down from the bed, so there's very little that can stop him. Unfortunately, gravity is a harsh mistress, and he faceplanted rather thoroughly while climbing down the (concrete) front steps. He says he was pushed, but witnesses have given conflicting reports. It healed up fast though, such that only one or two of the shots below show the mark.
With the weather getting cooler, he insists on being outside as much as possible. Mmm, actually, that has nothing to do with the weather. He insisted when it was 110° outside, too. Continuing the arboreal mammal theme, he collects rocks and acorns, carefully hanging on to them to store when we get home. But he's getting exercise, as are we. I hear my orthopedist is buying a new boat.
This past week, he's developed a peculiar obsession with watching me play Doom; he'll drag me into my office, hand me the headphones, and put my hand on the mouse. Then watch the carnage until he drifts off to sleep.
The tooth meter stands at 45%, ready to jump up to 60% any day.
