Baby Henry is ten months old and growing, growing, growing. Every week there are clothes to add to the "too small" bin. Every day he seems to understand something he didn't before. Just this last week, he finally learned to crawl. Like, forward. He would only go backward or sideways for the longest time, it seemed. The first time crawling from one room to another was to come from his bedroom into the bathroom where his sister and I were. He was so thrilled when he made it across the threshold and into the room with us! He immediately sat up (standard position for him) and waved his arms, kicked his legs, and squealed. I fell in love with him again, just as I do every day with each adorable thing that he does.
Nights have been a little rough lately. Henry is teething, or growing, or overwhelmed with his new learning, or something. Something that is making him wake up. Something that is making him scream for no apparent reason. And this kid can SCREAM - the high pitched, can't-hear-anything-else, makes you wince, kind of scream. It's unpleasant. Today, while I was trying to get him to nap, he bit me so hard on the arm that he got a little skin pulled up (and he bit me through my shirt). I said OW loudly, and set him down on the bed. He immediately screamed, and then cried with screaming for the next few minutes while I rocked him, until he fell asleep. On the bright side, he slept for more than an hour, which we all really needed.
Every day as a parent seems to contain both laughter and tears, peace and chaos, hugs and bites.