At four months, Young Old has been hard at work developing his repertoire of cute moves guaranteed to create smiles from all the doting adults that ooh and aah at him around the clock. He's cackling like a witch, cooing like a pigeon, and has recently tossed the gurgling by the wayside, opting instead for a deep-throated monotone breath-grunt. Hooohn hooohn hooohn...ad nauseum. It's creepy, but cute. Holding his head up ain't no thing. He's not only grabbing onto whatever brushes his sweaty little fists, but he's been actively grabbing for anything in his field of vision. Young Old has graduated from simply listening to music (underground rap still being his tunage of choice) to now grabbing rattles and attempting to shake them to the beat. He can stand up, straight and steady, with minimal assistance, and awkwardly walks, zombie style, if you drag his feet along the ground. He's certainly recognizing faces, and seems to be developing preferences, mostly for me, of course. He can do push ups when doing his tummy time sessions, and endless crunches when on his back...we're still working on jump squats, which I think are only another week or two away. Just last night, he rolled over from his stomach to his back, then repeated the trick four more times. I guess no more leaving him unattended on top of the lit fireplace, right? Just kidding, Mom, I make sure the fire's out. He's feeding less often (but not by much), sleeping a little bit longer at night (but again, not by much), and has been shitting a good deal less often, but a good deal more when the urge strikes, sometimes going through three or four diapers...in succession. My Ma said I did the same thing as a babe...like father, like son. His fingernails grow close to an inch every other day; we're on untrimmed-week #7 and I think we'll soon be able to submit our measurement to the good old Guinness Book.
And that's pretty much it. He's as cute as the day he was born, but our love keeps growing. At first, it was all about love at first sight, but now, it's that kind of mature love that comes with invested energy, shared frustrations, and a growing attachment. This kid is the world to us, and my thanks go out to everyone who reads this blog for caring about the little guy, too.
Young Old says..."Whoooo ACKKKKK hruuuuuuuumgh eaaaaaaah." That means: "Where the titty at?"
Young Old at four months:
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