Almost nine months old little guy! Yikes! You are no longer a little baby. Your new size 12 months fleece-super-warm-and-delicious-for-the-winter-footie-jammies arrived in the mail today, and I looked at them disappointed because they were so big. Figured by the time they fit it would be warm out. But just for kicks I tried one pair on you and uh.....let's just say they aren't loose and also do a fine job accentuating that sexy baby gut.
Several hundred dollars worth of baby proofing gear is on the way here, since you'd be a gold medal winner in Olympic crawling, and anything you can get your hands on to eat is fair game, little of it actually food. I'm feeling a little guilty about all the bruises dotting your arms and legs, but I guess learning to move around independently is a little hazardous, especially if your normally decisive Mama cannot pick a baby gate to save her life.
The following images are either an abomination of parenting skills or endearing and funny. I can't decide which...
I know he seems drunk, but really, the bottle was rinsed and clean.
Usually we just let him gnaw on the crust (or the "handle" as Dada calls it), but seriously, the entertainment is worth the bad parenting award, right?
Giving this pizza thing the stink eye.
Showing this pizza who the boss is.
Oh..
My...
Gosh!!! I LOVE IT!
Mama conveniently swiped the pizza to finish eating her dinner and Dada was, alas, left with the sauce stained baby to clean up.
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