That is my new nickname for you. More than usual lately you bulldoze, toppling things in your path, most often your wobbly self. I was sitting on the floor this morning eating yogurt and blueberries, and you were climbing all over me with abandon. Just as I’d decided this was too treacherous an activity, since you were clambering with no regard for your personal safety and I wasn’t juggling the yogurt and wily baby so well, you fell backwards and hit your head on the edge of the stove. I was sure I would pull you to me and see a split on your noggin, but, alas, there was just a little bump, and you were over the crying in a few seconds. When I saw an entry in one of those cool baby stuff catalogs for an inflatable baby helmet, I laughed, and your daddy and I got a kick out of what a rude awakening would come after being protected by a helmet for the first three years of your life. Lately, though, it doesn’t seem like such a ridiculous idea. You seem to have regressed in your desire to walk, and your balance is all off in the occasional, feeble attempts. It’s probably just part of the process.
I also like “Anti-Job, the Impatient” as another nickname for you. I hope the intolerance and whininess is simply a reasonable hold-over from your sickness, that maybe you are still feeling a bit icky. I truly hope this kind of behavior has not become an effective communication tool for you. I fear the crankiness might meld itself to your developing personality. Hopefully not.
Disfavorable nicknames aside, you are still a cute and sweet little bug, as evidenced by this photo taken after dinner last night with Daddy. My two lil men…
