It is no coincidence that I waited until today to post this. He achieved his nine month status on the 20th but it wasn't until today the 29th that he'd been out as long as he was in.
Yes, I'm still harping about that. Those were the longest nine days of my life.
This month he had no interest in the truck. This month it was all about mama's camera. That I got a photo including the truck at all was lucky.
At nine months my Duke has had enough of table food. A while back he was rejoicing in matchstick apple slices he could feed himself, in bananas and green beans and crackers and all kinds of things he could pick up and put in his own mouth.
Now he wants mush. High volumes of mush shoveled as rapidly as possible into his open, waiting mouth. Any food delivered in solid form without aid of a spoon will be examined and thrown on the floor. My feelings about this differ dramatically from those of the dog.
Months ago we endeavored to teach him to wave. He was big enough to conceivably grasp the concept and so we all began to wave hello to him when we entered a room. This got dull rather fast though, and we all wound up quitting before he caught on.
Sometime in the neighborhood of two weeks ago the previous month's labor paid off, and as I entered a room I observed his little hand open and close in accompaniment to the welcoming smile he offered me. What is cuter, I ask you, that watching mini fingers curl in greeting? Not a lot. I can answer that much. Not a lot.