Picture Wednesday

Finn at 41 weeks old.

 Last week we went to Finn's 9 month check up.  He weighs 20 pounds now and is 28 inches long and that puts him squarely in the 48th percentile in weight and height.  He's eating pureed fruit and veggies  like a champ now.  He hasn't objected to anything we've tried so far and I think it's probably time to start mashing up what we're having for dinner.  He's game to try anything.  Just this last week we've been giving him little finger foods so he can try feeding himself.  I'm a little reluctant to relinquish control and let him feed himself but I guess I have to do it some time, right?  I find myself fighting every little step toward independence.  Just stay my little dependent baby, Finn.  I promise it will be more fun!
This week has brought a lot more bonks for poor Finny as he gets braver about where he's standing up and he isn't terribly sturdy in the standing position yet.  The funniest casualty of the week are these little bruises he has on his thighs from getting his legs stuck in the slats of his crib.  Ha.

Yesterday I went up to calm him down because he was screaming in his crib when it was time for him to go down for his nap and when I reached in to grab him, I pulled to lift him up and he didn't budge.  That's when I realized his leg was stuck in the slat at the back of the crib.  It was very stuck.  I had to pull pretty hard to get it out, which of course, made him scream louder.  He eventually calmed down and fell asleep in my arms.  Then an hour and a half later he woke up with a similar freak-out scream.  His leg was stuck again.  Poor kid.  I don't know how he wedges his little legs in there so tight but it was very stuck, all the way up above his little knees.
Tate has been a little dear lately.  He's got a ridiculous amount of energy.  Some days I wish I could bottle it and take some for myself when I get worn down.  He's at the age where he's constantly moving.  Constantly touching everything at every store.  Constantly jumping on the couch, throwing things in the air, running around the house, regardless of how many times I ask him to stop.  He's just got so much energy to burn he genuinely can't help it.  Sometimes it drives me crazy trying to slow him down, but most of the time, he's so wonderful.  Preschool has been an absolute blessing for both of us.  He's so happy to go and so much happier when he comes home.  He's like a whole new boy and, while exhausting, is an absolute darling.  His imagination is incredible.  He's always talking about the animals he has in the house, the things they're doing, throwing them to me to hold for a while.  Sometimes he walks around with one hand across his chest "holding" his pet baby alligator/fruit bat/monkey/iguana/snow leopard, you name it.  He'll keep his hand across his chest for long stretches of time and takes care to switch the way he's holding them when he climbs on the couch, puts on his jacket, etc.  It's so funny to watch.
He loves hide and seek and I'm sure he could play it all day every day if we didn't have anything else to get done.  There is one time every day when we always play hide and seek.  Every day when Glenn gets home from work we hide and he finds us.  One day we were upstairs in my room when I heard the garage door opening.  Tate jumped and ran to the closet to hide.  It was a good spot behind all Glenn's clothes.  You could hardly see him.  Then he said, "I'll just stick these out so you can see me better."

Yeah, he doesn't fully grasp the specifics of the game, but he sure has a good time "hiding".