Okay, he’s changing so fast I just have to get some of it down (even though I really should be reading the HARD COPY of the FINISHED DRAFT of my screenplay!!! Yes, I’m bragging).

God, this week….

He’s feeding himself, or trying really hard anyway. He holds one of three or four spoons he insists on playing with while eating between his thumb and forefinger and stabs the food, occasionally managing to get a couple of oats or just a little bit wet with yogurt or chili or apple sauce and he lifts it to his mouth. Sometimes it falls onto his bib, sometimes he flings it on the floor, but sometimes he actually feeds himself a mouthful of food. Meals have gotten messier than ever, but I’m so damn proud of him, I let him go for it!

We spend a lot of time on Skype with Harlan and he not only loves it, but gets it. I say, “Should we go see daddy on the computer?” and he gets all excited and runs over to the chair where I sit at my computer and tries to scramble onto it. When Harlan comes on, he touches his face on the screen and screams, “Da-DA! Da-DEE!” I wrote Harlan a Father’s Day card that said (in messy, misspelled prose): I miss you. Get big again and come home from the computer.

His new favorite word is “No.” Everything is no, no, no, no. Let’s go inside. No. Want a cracker? No. You have a dirty diaper. No! It’s quite effective. I hold up different types of food and he says, “no” until he doesn’t, and that’s what he wants to eat. But he’s a little too in love with it at the moment. Hopefully just a phase.

He started hitting my face last night. It was bedtime and he’s was overtired cause he hadn’t had an afternoon nap and he was being super-rambunctious, throwing everything off my bed, crawling away from me, not wanting to nurse, laughing and rolling around, trying my patience. Finally I said, Okay, bedtime and carried him into his room. He started hitting my face and chest and cracking it up like it was the best thing he’d ever done, why hadn’t he thought of it ages ago. Let’s hope it’s not even a phase, but a one-time thing.

He’s got a really great sense of humor. He cracks up when I nibble his fingers or neck. He knows it’s funny when I make his bunny sing stupid songs in a dumb voice or put his doggy on my head like a hat or dance around the room like an idiot. He knows my dancing sucks. The other night in the bathtub, he was standing up and he farted. I panicked, thinking he’d pooped. I already had to deal with one poop in the tub and it wasn’t pleasant, but I looked and he was clean. Then he farted again, really loudly. He looked at me, almost embarrassed for a second, and we both totally cracked up.

Yesterday he got an erection while I was changing his diaper. (Harlan goes, “What were you wearing?”)