Anselm Ioan turned ten months yesterday. New this month: he has two teeth. Finally! I think he was latest teether of the three, though he still managed to slide in under ten months, though only just. “By the skin of his teeth?” I’m perfectly fine with my late teethers, as the presence of those two little pearly whites can really change the whole breastfeeding relationship thing.
Note to self: if you make him laugh while nursing, he will bite.
This is kind of difficult, because he pretty much laughs at everything.
I’m serious, I can’t even make eye contact with him.
While Big Brother Ephraim has had the corner on the Anselm Belly Laugh market, this month found him hamming it up with all members of the family equally, as if he’s finally decided that we’re all cool enough. Ephraim is still the favorite, though. (Will any monthly update ever show anything different? I’m beginning to wonder. I think I say this every time, but it’s true. Anselm + Ephraim 4-EVA.)
It’s because he hasn’t bitten him yet.
On New Year’s Day his little life was forever changed: instead of rolling around in his carseat snapped into the double stroller (which I usually do because it’s just easier) he was buckled into the front seat where he could see! Everything! It was amazing! It was like being strapped to mama’s chest, except lower and not as hangy! Needless to say, he doesn’t take kindly to being strolled in the carseat anymore. Who wants to ride backwards with a moose hanging in your face, anyway?
Right on time with his brothers, he’s developed his own special scrunchy-face grin that he whips out when he really thinks you’re funny (or when he’s hoping to charm you a little.) It works like…um, well, a charm. He’s just really good at it.
He’s really, really working on crawling…or maybe working on working on crawling…fortunately he likes to be on his belly on the floor, which puts him light years ahead of Clive at this age. I’m savoring these last times of putting him down someplace and coming back five minutes later to find him in the same spot.
He’s a pro in the Johnny Jump Up, and jumps to get around in the walker. It’s great.
Except when he uses those great jumping skills to hop himself over to the houseplants so he can eat them. I’ve had to move them where they are unaccessible to His Royal Hoppiness.
I sat him on my lap this morning after nursing (during which I was not bitten because I carefully avoided eye contact) and told him, not for the first time, how very happy I was to have him around. Anselm’s pregnancy was by far the most difficult of the three, but it was beyond worth it.
He grinned his scrunchy-face grin, waved and said “nye-nye.”
He gets me.