A creature of habit. Before I forget, here are some of the things Ray’s doing:
Banging two rocks together. Or anything.
Making a race for the plug-ins, mouse/keyboard cords, and the kitty’s tail. And getting closer every day.
Picking up things and shaking the hell out of them. If she likes them.
Putting everything in her mouth. Note: leaves don’t go down well. She choked on one while we were crossing the street. Reevaluated ideas about harmless bushes.
She likes the rugs in the front room. Striped yarn.
If it’s not too hard, she’ll bang the back of her head against it. For the noise?
Bouncing on the exercise ball. One of her favorite games with papa.
The syllables mama, dada, and nainai. May or may not mean anything. As well as other babbleage.
She hums while she zrbbts.
Feet in the mouth.
Pulling poppa’s beard. With all the passion her 7 1/2 month self can muster.
Sitting up in the cart at the grocery store. Safety straps in place.
Likes cheerios, ritz crackers, and a little bit of bagel crust that I gave her the other day.
There is much goodness in juice from a sippy cup. And much spillage. Or should I say backwash?
Nods. And shakes her head. And sits up and shakes her hands until she nearly tips over.
Likes going with mamma to work. Flirts with anybody that makes eye contact. Usually gets hogged by Megan K.
Poops. With solid food comes solid stench.
Sings to herself. And will sit up and dance to what she’s singing about.
Doesn’t sleep through the night. Not remotely. Probably my fault.
Likes the little girl next door who speaks nothing but Spanish. Her name is Lis. I think. She’s threeish.
Interested. Too interested to bother with crying. At least once the shock of tipping herself over backwards onto the carpet is over.
Hot. Always just a little bit warm. Still kicks off the blankets.
Cute. People say she’s beautiful. I’m fine with that.
Loves to be sociable. The moment you make eye contact, she’s smiling. And if you babble back, or do something to amuse or impress her…neat.
Likes to be held. Likes to be put down. Likes to be picked up and dangled upside-down.
Ticklish on her feet, under her chin, on her sides, between her shoulder blades. Not as ticklish, I think, as she pretends to be…strangers never get the same response.
Cries whenever Joe comes over. But soon thaws. Lee’s theory: big guy, loud voice.
Likes to watch papa play video games on the computer. Then likes to attack the mouse.
Shreds magazines. Pulls books off the bottom shelves, but doesn’t. Maybe she can’t get the covers open and shred at the same time.
Likes music. Headbangs to Carrie Newcomer. Folk, that is.
Hums her anger. Rarely cries with her mouth open unless she’s just bonked herself.
Likes to wake up her father by grabbing the edge of the matress, shaking it, and yelling.
Loves animals. Wants to put them in her mouth. I want to get her a puppy so baaaaaad.
Has short bangs because her father cuts them, and her hair’s short in the back because she wore it off. So the sides are really long, comparatively.
Her eyes still haven’t decided whether they’re brown or blue.
Terms of endearment: bebe, bebela, frogbutt. (She has little green onsies, even.)
Doesn’t puke much. Much.
Her favorite parent is whoever just walked in the front door. Unless she’s hungry.
The coolest thing in the world is to be naked. And loose on the floor.