The bun is growing so quickly that we've been caught unawares. He's grown out of his clothes all at once, and I have to bump him up to the 6-9 month size. I've done some quickie emergency shopping, and in a moment of weakness tried to relive the bear coat by shopping at that same expensive boutique. But I took back the clothes and bought him ten consignment items for the price of the two I got at the foofy place. Sigh. He's also flying through so many developmental stages that I feel a little like I did when he was born: out of my depth and totally unprepared. The bouncy seat which has been his special little chair since he was born is now very close to being a bun-slingshot since he's gotten so strong and so adept and bouncing it that he's liable to fling himself out at great speed. We're trying to figure out what a good alternative would be, but he's too wobbly for activity seats and Johnny-Jump-Ups. So I guess it's onto a high chair.
Each day is filled with mastering a new skill. A few days ago, his tongue lolled out of his mouth all day long, more basset hound than baby. The next day, he seemed to forget the tongue and focus on spitting and bubble-making. That was forsaken by an intense effort to pull my lips off my face (still popular, even at three in the morning), and now he's found his feet. Last night he grabbed them, used them to kick toys, and was quite thrilled to discover that he could project the tiny piano at great velocity onto the floor, jangling everyone's nerves, not the least the poor neglected cats.
And of great concern is his almost-not-quite willfulness in turning himself over. This will mean huge changes in our routines: no more napping in our bed until I get bedrails, no more crib with the side down, no more diaper table antics, and most depressing, no more little sidecar bed. As little sleep as I get you'd think I'd leap for joy, but it just bums me out.
In fact, this whole week has been a bit overwhelming. I know that he's going to grow up, but does he have to do it today?