He can sit up.
He's got two bottom teeth.
He can scootch (is that a word?) around backwards, and has been experimenting with getting up on his hands and knees.
He's eating solids 3 times a day while still nursing every 3 hours, and occasionally enjoying extra meals in the night.
((I'm still a very firm believer in the parent-led method. This kid would rule the roost if I wasn't in charge!))
Oh, how I love this kid. Even in the middle of the night when some undetectable noise wakes him up, he's tossed his pacifier behind his crib, and decided that the world would end if he doesn't get a full feeding as quickly as possible, my heart is so full snuggling him in my arms. I cannot get mad at this adorable dude.
Many of the little gifts I write down have to do with his tiny self.
Curious baby blues...
Squishy arms reaching for me...
Snuggles...
Squeals...
Hiccups...
Smiles in the early morning darkness...
Thank You, Father, for the privilege of raising sweet Kempy.
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