Sorry it's been so long. I feel bad about it, but there isn't much lately that I've wanted to talk about. We've fallen into a routine. Every night I come home from work the little man is excited to see me (which is the best feeling in the world), I make dinner, we eat, we keep the kid as happy as we can until it's time to eat, bathe, and go to bed.
Same thing every night.
Don't get me wrong, it's a nice grind. I love the grind, it's a grind I can see myself staying in for years (BTW as I type this he is falling asleep while drinking a bottle). The grind is great. . . for my wife and I.
For Rumplecrabbypants it's a grind ladened with the worst frustration of all. . . the inability to crawl. He knows he could do it if it weren't for the fact that he can't. He can roll, he can spin on his belly, he can gets on his hands and knees and rock. . . he's so close to crawling and it pisses him off!
The only shitty part for us is there is nothing we can do to help him learn. He just looks at us as if to say "you can work the diaper stuff and that magical spoon thing, why can't you help me move?" So we all wait, some of us more patiently than others.
Everybody we talk to tells us to watch out once he moves, that he'll get into everything and we won't get a moments peace. I'm sure it'll be tough to keep up with him, but I think he'll be much happier once he can move to get the toys he wants. . . or the remote, the phone, his mommy's hair, daddy's bottle of tequila, or anything else he sees.
Soon, my baby boy, soon.