And a Happy Eight Months to You!

Yesterday our Wes turned eight months. Wow. Sometimes when he looks up at me with little tear-filled, tired eyes after a bad dream, I still see that little guy we brought home from the hospital. But most of the time I see a little mischievous munchkin that has found a way to make it across the livingroom to play with something not-a-toy (aka the computer cord, Daddy's piano music, the computer mouse, etc.). I love his impish smile. I love his cuddles. I love his funny laugh when he is playing with Dad. I love the way he thinks his poop is hilarious--seriously. The funny way he wiggles his nose when it itches. His sighs when he finally gets what he wants--usually food. And how everything has suddenly turned into a hammer (William--watch out for your tools when this one comes to visit). His funny jibber-jabber he is starting to make in place of coos. The funny way he sucks on his sore gums, making a smacking with his lips.

What a guy.