I fear we are on the cusp of your first illness. You've inherited a little cough from your recently sickly parents (not naming names on who brought it into the house since it may or may not implicate the writer of the blog and trigger hideous mommy guilt) and have been sneezing more than usual (not that the unabashed pleasure of a sneeze doesn't still bring a big old toothless grin to your face). You woke up from a dead sleep crying tonight and your head sounds all congested. No boogies to suck out with our plethora of boogie sucking torture devices, but your poor head seems stuffed up. We parked you over the humidifier for a bit and drugged you up with a little yummy Tylenol.
Can you nom nom cool mist? Yes, Dada....you can.
Teething continues in earnest around here as well. We can see both bottom and top teeth are fully up and waiting to pop through from the view on the side of your gums. so...any minute now buddy!
Chew toys are for sissies. I got me some ice. Lots of ice. All of it, actually.
And big news....YOU CRAWLED! We were playing on the floor and suddenly you just needed to be across the room badly enough to do it. As soon as you arrived at your destination you promptly burst into tears. It's tough being a big boy.
Crawling. I'm doin' it. In your face.
Sitting up is so last week.
Here you are nom nomming on your crack pipe...I mean your Prevacid syringe.
