We've been off-blog for the past month, as I've been trying to write that other thing (the dissertation) that's almost as important as cataloging Henry's firsts. In the meantime, he's been growing like a weed and developing all sorts of opinions of his own, such as: shrieking at top volume is fun; pacifiers are no good; solid foods, especially squash, are delicious and fun to spray all over parents; pooping now requires accompanying facial expressions and exertion sounds; cribs are for sleeping and sometimes playing; music is wonderful; everything Mom says is hilarious; everything Mom's colleagues say at meetings is hilarious; sleeping through Mom's meetings with colleagues is for newborns, not big babies; peas are gross, but green beans are awesome; Dad's job is to help me stand up to see the world; tummy time stinks; I have a dog!; naked time is a right, not a privilege; TV shouldn't be just for grown-ups; post-bath lotioning is as bad as it has always been; I need entertainment if you want my cooperation at the grocery store; when I say I'm hungry, I mean I'm hungry NOW!; solidarity with other crying babies is important for morale; the Mr. Belvedere theme song is an appropriate centerpiece for one's dance routine; clean shirts are for decorating with colorful drool; the handsome devil in the mirror never gets tired of staring at me; clothes changing is good practice for Houdini escapes; Dad's silly voices are hilarious; car seats are unfair bondage; walks are for looking, not sleeping; 7 p.m. is not too early for bedtime; 5:30 a.m. is a reasonable time to begin being adored; feet are made for kicking; everything else in the world is made to be put in my mouth, including Mom's hair and random pages of her dissertation; squeezing me too tight after I eat is a bad idea, and Dad's shirts can prove it; don't put baby in a corner; there's nothing better in the world than snuggling and giggling in bed with my parents. On this last one, we all agree.
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