Pooh's Betrayal

Army Crawl, Take One & Two

Sometimes you feel like a plop.....

....then sometimes you crawl.  In your own peculiar way, of course.

Dinner and a Show

 Things are returning to equilibrium in Ava's life these days; she's playing, learning, and eating more than she ever has prior to any of her tummy surgeries.  As parents, have begun to identify her developmental progress as a series of hills and troughs instead of a crescendo opening its mouth to swallow and digest her milestones -- and hey, that's okay.  As our wise pediatrician Dr. O' Neill says, NO kid grows according to a chart.  

I admit that I've purposefully pulled back from writing in this space so much, but only for the purpose of devoting the benefit of my full attention to putting weight on her post-stomach bug and generally trying to create a sense of security for her that gradually diminishes the tearful sensitivity and clingy tendencies she develops when she gets sick.  It took a couple of weeks for her to get over the hump, but once she made it, she was finally sitting down in restaurants gobbling from my fork and waiving down weird strangers in Walmart like her old self.

Viva Italia in Hot Springs!

I've noticed that this time of concentration on her emotional development -- staying home every chance we got, actively engaging her in play, stuffing her with calories in every creative way we could think of -- has fostered another blooming season for her, and she's now revealing to us more of her dazzling little-person personality.  She' a funny little muppet, and really no longer a baby.

She'll mutter and whisper to herself when she's waking up in the morning or doing little playtime tasks; even if most of her vocabulary consists of "da-BA-dee-Gee!", she obviously comprehends the dynamics of language!  

Although we're STILL working toward crawling and walking, she's performing the precursors to these milestones in her own quirky ways.  On more than one occasion I've seen her inchworm across the bed or carpet, dragging her face along she butt-propels herself (*cringe*).  She also takes particular pleasure in pitching pacifiers or toys "overboard" from her bed, then pulling herself up onto her knees to view the damage below.  

I think the thing that excites Daddy the most is her unexpected predisposition toward organization. That's right, I said organization.  If her blocks or Easter eggs aren't in the bucket or bin she feels they should be in, she busies herself by turning in circles on her bum trying to gather them all up so to pitch them in, all the while muttering to herself like an under-appreciated  hausfrau the whole time.

Sometimes we just turn off the idiot box and watch her do whatever she does, the little busybody monkeymess.   

You can't buy entertainment like that.

Well, maybe for a Nutella-smeared graham cracker you can.