Eldore Rex turned seven months old yesterday.
As I type he is seated on the floor behind me, nestled in the boppy pillow; although when I turn to look at him I find him flung backwards and looking at me (upside down) with an eager expression. He will not sit up for long–not because he can’t, but I think maybe he is not content to–he flings himself at whatever toy is nearby (always better than the one he has in his hand) and ends up on his belly, or on his side, or draped across the pillow backwards like he is right now, and inevitably blowing raspberries.
It’s 10:30 on a Monday morning, and on the floor beside me lies one chunky-thighed infant. He’s on his belly; it’s where he prefers to be, these days, and he snuffles excitedly as he reaches for the chime ball that is just out of his reach. Every now and then he manages to just touch it with his fingers–the action pushes the ball even further away. He doesn’t seem to be aware of this, though. He crows and sings to it as if coaxing it back closer to himself.
Eldore Rex turned four months old on the 19th of March.