We’re still waiting to jump onto the mobility train (and I thought he’d be an early mover!) though he’s getting quite proficient at pulling himself along when he has Mama’s hands to hold onto. He’s also started holding himself up on all fours for (very) very short periods of time. I’m just hoping something clicks in the next four weeks so I don’t have to go to another twelve-month appointment with an immobile one-year-old.
While Big Brothers Ephraim chose his eleventh month to decide he didn’t like bananas anymore, Anselm used his to make peace with the fruit, deciding that they weren’t so bad after all; he has added them to his very, very long list of Foods That Are Delicious (which included essentially everything except bananas and most baby food.) The boy is an eater. We haven’t really had one of those, yet. Anselm will be the one to eat us out of house and home.
He still enjoys squeaking and squealing. “Squeaky Mo” is a persistent nickname.
He’s learned he can make his brothers laugh by making farting noises with his mouth and the arm of his highchair. He can also get a good giggle out of everyone by making a few other silly vocalizations. (They are hard to describe.) He observes these interactions with the scrutiny of an anthropologist, and only laughs if someone else does. If not, he stops and moves on to something else, no doubt making a mental note about the exchange for future reference.
He’s stuck for the moment at two teeth, which are perfectly displayed in his favorite facial expression: the Scrunchy Face, of which there are no pictures presently but surely will be soon as he does it All The Time.
One more month to go, then we aren’t really a baby anymore, are we?