I’ll be nine months old tomorrow, on New Year’s Eve. Momma has 
been home with me this week and I have been working to keep her occupied by standing up whenever possible, opening drawers (sometimes right into my own face) and threatening to smash my fingers, pulling things off shelves, and climbing on her whenever she is close enough. She has responded by lowering my crib mattress, installing the baby gates, cabinet locks, and other baby proofing measures that weren’t really necessary with Liza. My interests are more expansive (and dangerous) than hers, apparently.
My current skills include pulling up to stand, taking some steps with help, almost-cruising, climbing stairs, clapping (B-I-N-G-O), holding my own bottle, putting balls into a toy, and confiscating the remote control.
Liza is less than amused with my new skills. She is starting to realize what having a little brother is all about… getting drool all over her toys and constantly getting into her things. Today she “bopped” me on the head (her words), which earned her a time out. I forgive her, she’s awesome and I love her and I want to follow her all over the house and touch everything she touches and taste all of her toys and chew all of her blankets and pull on her pretty curly hair and climb on her lap and be with her all the time. If she’ll let me.
Tags: liza
