I know, I have been extremely remiss in neglecting my blog for so long. It’s not for lack of wanting to blog; I have just simply had nothing to say. I know, I know, you’re wondering if pigs are flying around outside, but it’s true: I am strangely devoid of commentary. Now that everyone’s feeling better and the weather is finally starting to behave itself, everyone is in good spirits, however.
A few updates: the pediatrician has confirmed that Aili’s hips are totally fine, according to the xrays. One is further along in development than the other, which has resulted in the minute asymmetry in her butt cheeks. (Which are still blue and in my opinion, delightfully and imperfectly perfect.) We’re starting to work on introducing lactose by way of verrrry slow inclusion of lactose-based formula. That brutal diaper rash disappeared as quickly as it showed up. Finally, two of the four incoming top teeth (the outer ones, strangely) are visible through the gums but haven’t broken through yet.
The weekend was nice. We had a nice dinner with Johnny’s folks to celebrate his recent birthday:
We went to our new friends Nancy and Mike’s place, where Aili got to watch Tallan show off his stuff in his own jumperoo:
We had our first summer dinner outside on the patio in the sunshine:
Ferocious jungle panther:
Wild tiger on the rolling plains of Grover Ave:
I don’t know which of them was more hopeful that she’d be able to pick up that ball:
(She wasn’t able to.)
A 2-way love affair: Aili with Leo, and Leo with the ball.
Aili loves feeding herself. Unfortunately, she completely sucks at it. She is very good at moving her hand from the tray to her mouth or from my hand to her mouth very accurately. She’s still a bit weak on the grabbing and letting go parts, which are somewhat essential for self-feeding. For example, she loves grapes. (Don’t worry, they’re peeled and cut into eighths.) But they are waaaay too small for her to grab and put into her own mouth, but now that she’s a finger-foods-kinda gal she often doesn’t want me to feed them to her. She wants to do it HERSELF. So I try to balance the tiny grape bit on the side of her hand so when she tries to put it into her mouth, the grape sort of falls in by accident. We have about a 40% success rate. This is a new stubbornness and independence we have never seen before. (I blame my Freedman genes for this new personality trait.)
Another side effect of this is the power struggle over the spoon. Often we have two spoons in play during mealtime: one for transferring food and the other for her to hold, suck on, and slobber all over. Despite the two-spoon system, we often produce quite a mess (see pic below). This morning we had a little tussle over who got to hold the spoon, resulting in a slingshot of oatmeal and prunes that covered her face, my face, my glasses, my housecoat, and extended halfway across the kitchen. She thought that was absolutely hilarious. (And it was.) We had a good chuckle about that. But I still get to be in charge of the spoon.
Show me those choppers!
Snack time with Obaachan.
My sweet husband is now 32. Happy Birthday, my love!
Trying to get a game going with the cat. This will never happen. It’s behaviour like this that makes us describe him as a ‘perpetual optimist’.
Mr. Optimist with his collection of toys. Oh so handsome.