The Boy

He's been sitting on his own for about a month.

He started eating baby food and less than a month later he promptly decided that he was above being spoon fed. As in every time I bring a babyfood filled spoon within a five foot radius of his mouth he screams bloody murder. So I gave in and he's happily learning how to stuff soft foods into his own mouth.

He's stubborn. (Wonder where he got that from?) He knows what he want and he knows how to get it. (Loving eyes and adorable smiles in case you're wondering. Or screaming. Either way he has us wrapped around his little finger).

He's a master sleeper. About a week before we went to San Antonio we realized that he had to be sleeping on his own. The bed we would be staying on at Philip's mom's house was a full and there was no way all three of us could fit on it. So we put him in his own room and *gasp* let him cry it out. I know, I know, I'm a horrible mommy. The longest he's ever cried was 30 minutes and now a few weeks later he never cries at all. I figured he's 8 months old. He doesn't need to eat in the middle of the night anymore, and the better rested he is at night the happier he'll be. And he is.

The quiet baby moments are swiftly passing by. He wants to be playing and getting into things, not snuggling. But those magical times when he's sleepy or nursing or just in a quiet mood, I hold him close and try to breathe in every moment of baby bliss while I still can.