Me? Oh, you know, I'm busy cramming my work and social life full to bursting and, oh yeah, I have a 9 1/2 month old baby!!! I sense you are less shocked than I am.
Did I mention he's pulling himself up and cruising around like a little daredevil? Ironically, just the day before he first pulled himself to standing, I had read something about how preparing to walk really threw into relief a baby's personality: some babies are more cautious and won't let go of furniture for months, others show more confidence, etc. Then our Little Guy (Who I am will be calling Mr. Man in dis here blog. I don't know either, but it's become a habit around our house so you have to suffer along with us.)...what was I saying...oh, I read this thing and then Mr. Man (that's right) pulls himself up in his crib. Yeah! What a big guy. Everyone takes a shot and so forth. Then we set him on the floor, he immediately pulls himself up on his ottoman, turns, spies a bookshelf a couple feet away, and lets go and tries to walk there!
**BTW, he was not successful**
As it turns out, this was not a one-time occurrence but his MO. He takes huge steps, you know for a 29 inch high human, and will literally lunge to his next stopping point to save time. Cause baby has got sh*t to do. Can't be wasting precious time taking into account one's intact skull and mommy's anxiety levels.
So now, R or I can be found hovering behind Mr. Man, who is surprisingly good at keeping his balance until the precise moment his spotter looks away. Then he starts crying not because the fall hurt, or was scary, but because he is not currently risking his life lunging between pieces of furniture.
He has also, very recently, begrudgingly started crawling. Technically he's been crawling for a month now, but only when rolling couldn't get him what he wanted and even then his technique, well, to be frank, he sucked. Hard. His crawl looked like an actual crawl - as in the swimming style, complete with the part where you turn your head side to side to breath.
A few days ago, in a desperate attempt to get him to practice moving closer to the ground, I started luring him to crawl using the one thing he wants even more than boobies. My phone. And it totally worked. Now he's army crawling to get all the things he really wants (read: dog toys, shoes, mommy's phone, dog toys, mommy's phone, and, of course, mommy's phone).
If anyone gets an unexpected phone call from a drunk speaking Czech and shrieking, that probably means Mr. Man got a hold of my phone again. Sorry.
In other news, my baby is a damn genius capable of waving, clapping, high fiving, and he's officially said his first word, **drum roll** "hi". I had my money on "dog" but "hi" won, beating out mama, dada, dog (technically he's saying that but it's not always distinguishable from the other twenty variations of doh; the kid has sloppy pronunciation) and toes. So, you know, I'm looking into Stanford's scholarship options and hoping none of the other babies catch on anytime soon.
And that's about that. 9 1/2 months old. **eyes roll up into my head and I faint dead away** And, scene.