Teething and Hats

Max has begun the fine art of teething this month, and is chewing on any number of objects in order to get relief. His favorite things to gnaw/gum thoughtfully/moisten with baby drool include his own hands, various toys,and any part of his mom or dad that brushes past his mouth area.





Max is also becoming daily more mobile and alert. He is at a really charming phase where his brain has taught him that he is closer to the center of the action if he sits or stands up, but his body cannot yet do those things without assistance. He expresses his dissatisfaction with this discrepency by squawking loudly if placed in a lying down position to play. While we try to be there for him, and prop him up whenever possible, we have had to resort to artificial props (like the excersaucer, seen here in use).

When Max goes out on the town, he likes to be as unencumbered as possible (and hey, who can blame him?). When he goes out with his granny, however, she fears he will be too cold, and so we have to layer a bit more heavily than we might otherwise. I suspect that Max, like his mother, runs on the warm side, and he hates and fears hats of any kind. I sympathize, Max, but what can I do?


Okay, okay. I know I just put all the blame on Granny for hat-wearing, but this time it was me forcing the headgear on my helpless child. He is just too cute in this hat to resist a small amount of torture. (Of course, this hat was a present from Granny, so she isn't totally blameless.)






And yet another stuff on the head picture. Max is going to move to upper Yemen as soon as he is eighteen if we can't get our photographing embarassing moments thing worked out.

Max's New Trick

Max is learning a new trick this week . . . rolling from his back to his tummy. Here he is laying the groundwork . . .

commencing rolling . . .

he's got everything but the head and shoulders done, but this is where it gets tricky, folks. Is he going to make it?

Victory is Max's! He can now officially roll from tummy to back, and from back to tummy. Nothing left to do now but celebrate.

Ta-daaaa!

Too hot for the web!

If you have the time and energy, you should go back to our earlier (sometime in September or October) post of Max in his bathtub. Comparing the two pictures really lets you see how much he has changed. We used to be afraid we'd lose him down the drain of this tub, and now he barely fits into it! This picture had to be censored a little, because Max is growing all over, if you know what I mean.






Max and his mama post-bath. This towel has a pocket in it, like a kangaroo pouch, for putting wet babies into. Max no longer fits in the pocket, on account of the aforementioned growth.






I took this picture without the knowledge or consent of either subject, because its cuteness required documentation. Ian would like me to clarify, for those especially observant parties, that the clock reads 1:29 a.m. He wishes it known that he is not sleeping at 1:29 in the afternoon.


This is Max right after his four-month check-up on Tuesday. He looks peaceful, but he really gave us the business for the next 24 hours. He was feverish, and then apocalyptically crabby (apocalyptically can be a word if I want it to be) until he was really sure we understood that he did not care for the doctor in general and the shots in particular. The good news is that the doctor has confirmed what we have all long suspected -- Max is perfect. He is now 15 pounds, 3 ounces, and is twenty-six inches tall. Long. Whatever. He has almost tripled in weight since his birth, and is now in the 90th percentile for height and head size!