For the first time....

(Springtime pics taken at Lakeview Cemetery on April 27th....)

.. this evening as we headed out for a walk, Jack got upset at me for taking a toy away from him. I think it may have been his "first tantrum"! While this is, I am sure, an exciting milestone in his cognitive development, I am not all that excited about what this means for the future of my happy, easy going, content-with-whatever-is-at-hand baby. As I watched my toothy little boy yell at me from his stroller, I felt, suddenly, just how fast we are hurtling toward toddlerhood.

The funny thing about this is: the object that he go so upset over. Yeah. It was the dog leash. After I relented and let him hold onto a part of it for the rest of the walk, he was perfectly content again, gumming and gnawing away on the grimy leather. To think, some people sterilize their baby bottles....

In other news:

I am not sure if I've reported yet that he now has 6 teeth. The 6th one came in the day after I responded to a BZ poll that he had 5. Spoke too soon. I can really see his top teeth now when he smiles and laughs and it makes him look so different! He is also learning how to use those teeth effectively on mum-mums. Thankfully he is not yet (knock on wood) using them while nursing.

We are thinking that if Jack ever decide to crawl, he's probably going to do the bear-walk variety. One of his new favorite games is being supported to stand, then hinging from the hips to reach down to the floor for something. Of course he takes it for granted that we'll hold him up. He is not too happy if I let him slide down onto his belly on the ground!

We have discovered that Jack likes cinnamon. I gave him a bite of my cinnamon oatmeal the other morning and he loved it. We are now adding a dash of cinnamon to all of his cereal experiences and he has nearly doubled his cereal consumption.

And, thanks to the emergence of stranger anxiety, I am finally starting to feel like the little bugger may like me, after all. He's been earning money for his college fund left and right by fussing when I leave him with someone else, and reaching out for me when I reappear. I may not look upon this behavior so fondly in the future but for now, it feels pretty good, this evidence that my baby thinks I'm someone special.

Oh yeah-- and the kiddo is 8 months old. Actually 8 months and 2 days. I remember back when we used to count his age in days, then in weeks. Now I am hardly keeping up with the months. Soon it will just be years. Egad. Time does fly...