On October seventh, Anselm Ioan turned seven months.
We were out-of-state and, since my laptop bit the dust several months ago and has not been replaced (so that I have no portable means of photo editing) I took pictures of his seven-month birthday, but just got around to writing this post today.
Also late was his six-month appointment, which we had today. He is 16 lbs, 9 oz., and 27 inches long (though I think he was measured incorrectly again.) He charmed the nurse and doctor, as is his usual way with people.
Big Brother Clive, who heretofore has shown little interest in his baby brother, has also felt the effects of Anselm’s charming personality; he has begun to show special attention to him, saying his name over and over in his sweet two-year-old voice. He has stopped trying to gouge his eyes out.
Despite all the athletic strivings of his early months, he remains immobile, only flailing his arms and legs while on his tummy as of he were frantically outswimming a crocodile. (It’s a good thing he isn’t, as he tends to go backwards when he does this.) He has mastered the walker at an earlier age than his brothers, though. Or the general idea of it, at least.
He started sitting this month, placing him slightly later than Ephraim but earlier than Clive in mastering this skill. This excites The Cat, as it means she can begin to push him over, which apparently is a favorite pastime of hers where sitting babies are concerned. The rest of the time she contents herself with sitting by him, sitting on him, drooling on him (yes, we have a drooling cat, and it’s gross), distracting him from nursing and just generally invading his personal space.
He began imitating sounds this month–chiefly bah-bah-bah sounds (which means Mama can start teaching him “The Whiffenpoof Song”!) He is also very intrigued by waving. He doesn’t quite do it, yet, but you can tell the mental wheels are turning.
And he said his first word:
He’s enjoying his Real Food, and doesn’t seem to mind that he hasn’t gotten the same treatment as his brothers where solids are concerned.
He’s become a 90% Thumb Sucker. Occasionally he’ll settle for a pacifier, but only rarely. But anytime he gets ahold of one of his crochet blankets or anything that’s made of yarn, he pops his thumb right in his mouth. Sometimes he hooks his index finger over his nose. I love it.
I love him, too.