G is getting very big, very fast.
Now, when I pick him up and hold him in my arms, instead of lying there all compact and cuddly, he strings out, long legs and arms akimbo. He is about to start walking all by himself, everyone says so, as he is cruising around the room, going from coffee table to couch to high chair to piano bench, to tv. He is also practicing standing alone-- and he's getting pretty steady on his feet.
It's obvious that he is more able to understand what we are saying, now. He listens, he responds, he anticipates. Now I can have conversations with him, and even if he can't talk back, there's real communication happening.
He also has girlfriends all over Williamsburg. And most of them are older women. He's such a flirt. He likes to get people's attention and have them fawn all over him. Everyonce in a while, they don't respond at all. I tell him then that not everybody is going to want to play. Then he moves on to the next target.
I can't believe that G is 11 months old. Hardly a baby anymore. A toddler, a big boy. He's even getting hair, although it is still strangely strawberry blond. No teeth, though. He might be gumming his food til college.
He loves music. He stops whatever he is doing and turns whenever someone starts singing on Blues Clues or Sesame Street. He's begun to clap along to it, also. So cute when he claps with his chubby little hands. Sometimes, it looks more like he is brushing his hands, or cleaning them. Well, I guess there's a learning curve to everything.
Yesterday, he was standing with Papa, and he was doing so well, that he started clapping. He knew he was doing well. Just like he gets frustrated when he falls and starts to cry-- because he really wants to get up and run around and just keep going. Adventure Boy! indeed, just still in training.
It's like a miracle the way people go from these little lumps of blank baby clay into these real, honest to goodness people.