Calvin at 8 months

 8 months. We've made it this far; and even though this past week has been crazy, life is actually settling into a rhythm a bit. Calvin is still so full of joy it spills over onto anyone he smiles at. I cannot tell you the number of people who stop us while we're out because Calvin smiled at them as they walked by.

 He is incredibly busy, having learned to crawl around 7 months and pull up a week later. He is currently adept at walking himself along a piece of furniture and has no discernment
about what can and cannot hold him up. He is gumming all sorts of food with no teeth in sight; the latest being mushrooms, cheese, and mango. No hummus though, Abigail and I laughed for a full five minutes at the hummus faces he made.

Speaking of, Abigail has really enjoyed his mobility. Once she got past the shock of Calvin's new found ability to reach her toys, she adjusted well. They'll crawl after each other down the hall, both laughing with delight.  I think she often views him as her personal minion, to be incorporated into her pretend as she wishes. He's not very compliant but that doesn't stop her trying to force feed him pretend cookies. 

 We do have really rough days where she spends the whole day trying to maim him and he refuses to stay out of her stuff, but mostly they have fun. I love, absolutely love, shooing them both out onto the back porch and watching how they play. 

They eat a lot of dirt, get a lot of scraped knees, and scatter grass all over my porch while having a tea party for fifteen (about all the people Abigail can think to name and invite).  

By 5 o'clock I'm often ready to hand everyone over to John and hide in the closet all by myself for 30 minutes, but that's life as a mom, right? And it's awfully good life-practice at depending on the Spirit's power minute by minute. Whether I want that practice or not. 

I think she was upset that he was getting a picture in her hat....even though she put it on him in the first place.

But I love them; and they love each other.  Abigail recently told me she's going to teach Calvin to turn on the TV with the remote, not push things over, and how to feed himself. Lofty goals, all three.

 Happy 29 months to my sweet punkin (she's not my baby. I made that mistake the other day and she was quick to let me know the truth of the situation. Calvin is the baby).

And may the next 8 months be filled with as much joy from this fellow as the first 8.
I love you John Calvin, and you make me smile.