8 Months

To quote a popular song from the 80's: "You may ask yourself, well, how did I get here?"

Bug is eight months old. For the past six weeks or so he's been on an actual, bona fide schedule, which still strikes me as a minor miracle. He has one tooth and another one about to come to the surface. He sits up pretty well on his own, though he still needs a pillow or something behind him for those few times when he loses his balance and flops backwards.

He's sleeping through the night (a major miracle). He doesn't need to take Zantac anymore (Praise God!) and is generally an easy going happy guy now.

He says DaDaDaDa and NieNieNie pretty well and emphatically at times, slapping his little knee or the high chair tray like Nikita Kruschev. He also says Ghhhuurrrrthh. I'm not sure what that means, but it's pretty impressive. He loves to eat (no surprise, considering his family gene pool) and is curious about everything.

Every day we go for a walk in the backyard and visit the plants and trees. When we get near a birch or beech tree branch, or a rhododendron bush he lunges in my arms and reaches out to touch the leaves - but gently. But he doesn't like the feel of grass on his feet. Not yet anyway.