He has a pretty great baby sense of humor. He laughs when mama does something silly. He laughs when dad does something silly. He laughs at the dog. He laughs at funny noises and movement. He is ticklish. He adores peek-a-boo and continues to think other children are spectacular.
Charles thinks he can walk. Now, I don't mean he can walk, because he clearly cannot. But. He thinks he can. And so, we have entered the stage in his young life that is marked by bruises and multiple crying jags each day. Why? Because children who cannot walk and try to do so often fall on their faces. He has also taken up lunging for things, even when strapped down in his rocking chair. Today, he managed to turn the chair over on himself. He is one strong boy, and I have no doubt he will remain so if we can just keep him alive. Sheesh.
Charles is also more and more enamored with his reflection each day. The recent change is that someone (not gonna name any names, but his initials are Tony) has been letting Charles reach out and touch his reflection in every mirror. How can a baby have such greasy handprints? They're everywhere, marring every mirror. But damn, he has fun doing it:
Are you looking at his gut? He's workin' on it!I had a lemonade popsicle today. While I thought it was exquisite, Charles' reaction was somewhat more, ahem, doubtful. See for yourself: