Young Old, Lunar Cycle No. 8

In my all-encompassing desire to get caught up on the backlog of photos and videos, I seem to have forgotten to provide my (let's be honest, rarely on-time) monthly update on Young Old's developmental progress.

Shrugs and oh wells.

So on the cusp of his ninth month of this thing called life, I'll attempt to delve deep into the mists of time, and come up with a very abbreviated, and likely fantastical array of his accomplishments at the time of his eighth month.

Here goes:

-Young Old has become a proficient snuggler, especially during those 3am diaper change/feedings, cuddling up into the nook of our necks, and making little sounds of contentment. Of course, this lasts about 3.6 seconds before he's clawing his way out of our arms in a desperate attempt to shove a passing light switch or a nearby picture frame into the slobbering abyss that is his toothless maw.

-Young Old flirted with a brief touretic obsession of holding his tongue out to one side of his mouth whenever doing any physical task. While a behavioral concern of ours at the time, Young Old has long since dropped this tic, and has replaced it with the unfortunate urge to shout "Shit suck!" at strangers in the supermarket. Parenting is nothing, if not exciting.

-Baby Khan, likely in an attempt to strengthen his image amongst The Horde, has learned to roll over from front to back and back to front, bring himself to a sitting position, and pull himself up onto his feet, obviously all important skills integral in riding his steppe pony into battle.

-The beginning steps towards crawling...you're all familiar with the end results of this budding development if you've read the previous entry. If not, shame on you.

-Young Old wakes me up most mornings with "Dadadadadadadadadadada. Babababababababababa." Life is a precious thing, no? Most nights, during which Mama K takes charge of the bedtime routine, Young Old has taken to shouting out "Mamamamamamama, you and your milk things are the world to me" proving that he loves us both equally (a legitimate concern for parents who spend an unequal amount of time with their little guppy) and is a goddamn genius.

-Finally, and possibly undeserving of the term "development", The Young One has acquired the skill of dribbling spittle into the palm of his closed fist, then once full to the brim, rapidly clapping that one hand against itself, thus creating the most annoyingly squishy noise the world of sound has yet produced. Please, my son, retard this development ASAP, as I'm not only tired of the soggy tune you've mastered, but am extremely over you smashing your spit fist into my face whenever I go to pick you up. I still love you, but give it a rest, at least until you're 12 and out of the house.

==========================

The little mongrel at 8 months: