And we all know what I think of that.
He's crawling now; protesting all the way, but he's crawling.
He scoots all around the house in his walker, looking for Cullen and Christian, gleefully following along behind them once they're found. If they're not home, he comes after me and jerks on my pants leg, fussing, until I rescue him.
He's crawled out of his room many times. He's crawled from his play area in the living room to the kitchen and dining room.
The other night we had ribs for dinner. Cavan ate most of one of mine. I don't mean pureed meat or tiny little pieces, either. These were chunks of meat. He'd scoot over in his walker to me and open his mouth so wide it looked like his jaw was double-jointed. I'd put a chunk of rib meat on a fork and hold it to him and he'd grab it like a shark grabs... well... whatever those big bloody hunks of meat that sharks grab are called. Then he'd scoot away, sucking his lips and smacking to get all that delicious flavor before coming back for more.
Last night we didn't even break out the baby food. We just cut up little pieces of chicken and gave him the potatoes we were also eating.
Excuse me while I curl up, suck my thumb, and cry.