These are all the little things I want to remember about him. (Thanks, A'Dell, for reminding me of some of them.)
He's very vocal: he gurgles and gargles and arghs and ahhhs and gaahs and dadadadadada and does weird squeaky breathy inhales and smacks his lips and screeches. In other words, he's loud as shit, even when he's happy. It does get louder when he's frustrated by the fact that he's lying on his belly flapping his arms and legs like some kind of deranged turtle and STILL GETTING NOWHERE, MAN, so we have to go rescue him from himself to save our eardrums.
He does a funny happy thing where he wrinkles up his nose and snorts in and out and raises his hands up in the air. I've got to get it on video.
He thinks stomp rockets are HILARIOUS. Seriously. We launched them on Martha's Vineyard about 20 times, and he laughed like a madman every time.
So close to crawling. Soooo cloooose. My children seem to take their sweet time getting around to crawling. They get up on their knees, they rock like mad, do downward dog, even push off with their feet. And then resort to yelling and flailing in the default "airplane" position, because eff this trying to crawl stuff, I want to FLY.
Also, paper is delicious.
He's eating everything in sight. I feel like I'm struggling to keep up with the quantity that he eats at each meal, as well as trying to give him new things. He's just amazing to me, as he grabs the spoon and shovels it in. He hasn't quite got the hang of feeding himself and the Cheerios and Puffs mostly just get stuck all over him, which is entertaining at least. He also seems to feel that eating requires that you often stretch your arms out to the side like an airplane. Perhaps it makes the food taste better.
One of his latest tricks is what we think is his version of a hug and kiss. Where you pick him up and he grabs painful fistfuls of hair and yanks for all he's worth while simultaneously attacking your face with an open mouth like the vampire baby in Twilight. And with snorting. It's cute and horribly painful and kind of drooly and slimy all at the same time.
He weighs more now than his sister did at one year old (18 pounds and counting). I realized the other day that I've got to put the 6-month clothes away, and that 12-month onesies fit him pretty well, thanks.
So far, he's been called Little Fella (a la Finding Nemo), Baby A-A (from Helene), Jaxy (the grandmothers seem to like this one), Bubba (Seth is sure he's the first Jew-Bubba in the family), Bubby, Buddy, Baby Boy, and our current favorite (also from Helene) Ajoox! (which you have to say loudly, with an upward lilt and the end and an exclamation point, just like that). I guess we call him Ajax sometimes too.
He can almost really play with his big sister. Almost.
He's just so fabulously happy. He so rarely cries. He's prone to yelling loudly if he wants your attention (at 2 am, for example, ahem), and if he's frustrated, he is astonishingly loud and screechy. But he almost never cries, like with a sad face and tears. He wakes up happy, in the morning, after naps, and even when we've had to wake him up for something. He's just a delight, even when he is ripping all of my hair out with both meaty little fists.
Just look at him. My boy.