Sitting pretty

Oscar has got the sitting up thing down, and will now try to pull himself up by climbing on a parent or caretaker when one's handy. For a few weeks now, he's been presenting his hands to us when he wants to be pulled to a standing position. It was really his first expression of desire, beyond crying, and less and less effort is required on our part to stand him up. He can stand for awhile with very little support, though he still can't balance. And he's not quite crawling yet -- creeping, we've learned, is the technical term for it.

As of last week, when we took him to the doctor, he weighed 20-and-a-half-pounds and measured almost 30 inches. He's teething again, with two new ones coming down in front, above his existing pair.

We're at another one of those points where our routine is about to get a lot more complicated. Bedtimes are now very regular, and we're starting to build in all the little rituals -- baths, brushing, etc. We're to feed him cereals, fruits or veggies three times a day, in addition to breastfeeding. For Oscar, eating solids is a multi-sensory experience not limited to taste. It's mostly tactile, actually.


Jen and I differ somewhat when it comes to our philosophies of feedings. She's a strict Leachist (as in Penelope), subscribing to the notion that feedings should be anarchic, sensual romps. She gives him a spoon of his own and trades off with him when he grabs the one she's trying to feed him with. She allows him to smoosh his hands around in the bowl. She abandons all hope of cleanliness and lets him make a mess. I gently fend off his efforts to grab bowl and spoon, clinging to the (usually doomed) chance that I might get away with a quick wash-up if I can somehow keep his hands and face relatively clean. I'm not really sure if it's worth the stress in the end, but there you go. Uptight dad.

We've been kind of easing into this for awhile, typically feeding him one meal of (semi-) solid foods a day when we have him at home, but this is a whole 'nother thing, requiring that he be fed in the morning, before he goes to daycare, and/or in the evening, before bed. As you can see, feedings can be a bit messy, though he has been getting more compliant, opening his mouth for us unprompted. Still, he frequently prefers gnawing on his bib to his food.

Well, it is pablum.

Whenever we give him something new to eat, he makes this face that's somewhere between a frozen retch and a cat picking up a scent. You know -- that thing they do when they go all trancelike with their mouths open? No? What can I say? We're cat people.

At Thanksgiving, he had stuffing and sweet potato -- the real deal, not the dayglo orange goop that comes in little jars. Last week, he had his first egg (yolk, anyway, hard boiled and mashed up). We've given him pizza crusts and bagels to chew on -- baby's first New York street food. I can't wait to give him his first pastrami on rye, but that's a ways off.

In the fine motor department, he can pick up a pea or Cheerio between his thumb and index finger, though he hasn't quite got the releasing part down, so he still can't feed himself finger foods. He can bring it to his mouth, but he doesn't know to let go.

Getting him out the door in the morning is a major production, as there's now shoes, a scarf and several layers of clothes involved, plus a snowsuit-like thing for really cold days, and a sleeping bag-type contraption attached to the stroller. And then there's the hat, which he hates, since it always creeps down over his eyes, and the plastic that goes over the stroller. He's quite the fashion plate, though.