Eating

Brennan is making progress with "solid" foods - he still prefers pre-processed pureed Frog Hollow Farm pears to Gerber's sweet peas or Mommy's carrots, but to be honest, so do I.  He's at least accepting the other stuff, perhaps because his Aunt Kris has provided so many fun eating accessories:

He's also growing up in alarming leaps - after work on Sunday, he was on the bed with his daddy and doing his "baby swims very hard but doesn't get very far since he's not in the water" routine, and I told him if he couldn't get those knees up under him, he'd never get anywhere.  The words were still hanging in their balloon in the air over our heads, and he proceeds to scoot his knees under his body and rock back and forth.  Just like his doctor said he'd do when he was close to crawling. Crap.  The next night, his Grandma Lorna asked if he had any teeth yet - I said I didn't think so, but let me check.  And guess what?  He's cutting a lower incisor.  Crap.  But here's what Bren has to say about it: