Five Months Old. I think we’re starting to figure this little oddball out.
He’s well into solids. His pediatrician told us that by 4 months their gut flora is ready, so if he’s ready we could start. This time around we just kinda mushed up some bananas and gave it a shot, as opposed to how I did it with Pete, with much research and going by the books or asking all the moms I knew on the Internet for their personal advice. He eats solids twice a day, three on the weekends. He prefers his purees chunky and substantial, and eats anything we offer – which, considering it is late winter, mainly consists of roasted root veggies, avocados from TJs, and bananas (with the occasional apple sauce for dessert). He started foods much the way he’s handled his other milestones, with aplomb. As if he’s been doing it his entire life, giving us The Eye for breaking out the video camera and gushing at him like a bunch of idiots.
Speaking of, this child really owns his inner German. Aside from his excellent constitution (eats anything with no ill effects, and has only had one cold all winter) and the fact that he’s quite tall: he does not seem to suffer fools gladly (see: Peter), loves cars, and hates the sun. He isn’t much for being overly emotional. Oh, and when I am not doing something fast enough for his liking, be it feedings or diaper changes or picking him up when he’s done playing, he makes it quite clear I’m lacking in efficiency (or at least I assume that’s what he means, given the direct, unimpressed tone of his squawks).
But still, with all that said, he isn’t a grump, I hate to leave that impression. He’s friendly and darling, just more reserved. We might see less giant gummy smiles and squeals with this baby; instead we get lots of grins and pleasant cooing. He enjoys life, just a bit more calmly.
He rolls with the punches like a good little second child; he’s pretty uncomplicated – I mean, until the evening, DO NOT SCREW WITH THE EVENING ROUTINES. Five o’clock to about seven o’clock is a crapshoot in this joint. But! He also only gets up a few times a night now, hell sometimes only ONCE, so no complaints here, not a one. I can take a bossy baby in the evenings if it means we get some sleep.*
*And with that, I just jinxed myself and he’ll be back to getting up every 1-2 hours again. Just wait. Juuuuuuuuust wait.
Here’s my favorite part of that delicious baby these days, though. When I pick him up from daycare. When he first sees me it’s not giant open-mouthed smiles or squeals or enthusiastically flapping limbs. Instead, when our daycare provider faces him in my direction, he just stares, eyeing me, but once he meets my gaze his whole demeanor subtly changes. A grin, his eyes crinkle, and his whole body relaxes. Oh my goodness, I smoosh that fat little thing before buckling him in the car seat for the ride home. And that entire drive home, he sings or chatters at me in a sing-song voice. That, my friends, cannot be beat.
I mean except for the sleep thing. The sleep thing trumps all duh.