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Six months. Ten and a half kilos. Two front teeth. And still a long way to go.  Seven can easily toss and turn now.  We move him to our bed when he wakes up in the morning. He's in his best mood during that time.  His morning face is priceless.   Too cute. Too sweet. Too irresistible to ignore. (At least for us his parents.)  Eyes of astonishment  Sometimes we let him feel the edge of the bed. Secured, of course.   Because no one will shoot me with the DSLR, I resort to a mirror photo. Both a struggle and an accomplishment.  He's very heavy now, so we now use his stroller for his morning garden walk-around.  He loves moving around. He hates being stuck in one place. He usually cries when that happens.    Now that he's six months, his pediatrician has given the go-signal for solid food.  Anie and I enjoy watching him eat. It's an awesome sight.  Feeding time is delightful so far. He loves food and keeps still as long as you feed him.  Another milestone : he can now old his milk bottle with a consistent, firm grip. And oh, what a strong grip he has.  Baby steps, but his legs aren't that strong yet. He's getting there.  We've ditched the bassinet for the spacier crib. Good thing he's comfortable sleeping in it.  Matakaw. He gets excited and stomps his feet when he sees the spoon.  One of his funny poses while asleep    Showing off his pearly whites  We get a lot of questions about what (milk) we feed him. Here it is. He's now on Enfapro.  Monthly weight check : 10.6 kilos (23 pounds)  Anie has almost gotten back to her pre-marriage weight. 105 pounds. Just 5 more to lose. And next month as Seven turns 7 months, it will be Christmas! He's cuter, cuddlier, and smarter. Our only gripe is he's gotten so heavy that we get muscle and back aches when we carry him for an extended period of time... like, 3 minutes or more. Especially now that Seven hasn't had a yaya for the past month. We're seriously contemplating on making the weekly home massage service a twice-a-week treat. That, or we'd better find a yaya real soon. Halfway to one, Seven! May you grow up to be not just a cute boy, but a good one. Lord, I don't know which way I am going |
Pop Jeremy
Father to Seven. Prefers to be called "Pop" because Daddy is too sosyal, Papa can mean boyfriend / boy-toy or a ketchup, Tatay is too un-sosyal, and Popsie is just three letters too much. I don't like the cola because it's too sweet, but I esteem coach Gregg Popovich because he gets the job done. So Pop it is. Archives
October 2014
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