Oh frabjus day! Not only did we go out to breakfast en famille, not only did we take a jaunt to the pier, not only did I find a surprisingly flattering (flaw masking) dress at Old Navy, but the critter is officially sitting by his ownself! The lad's doing a fair bit of "ownself"ing these days which is either adorable or taxing, depending on caffeine consumption. My days are spent dancing between encouraging his independence and keeping whatever happens to be on the receiving end (apartment/cats/me) reasonably damage-free. Because he so desperately wants to exert control, I decided to try finger food the other day. I diced some ripe farmer's market peaches into fingernail-sized bits (I'm a nellie when it comes to chokables) figuring he'd have a field day ownselfing instead of waiting for mama to shovel it in, but mostly he just got frustrated. It was like watching an arcade claw machine - the poor kid kept grabbing for the prize but coming up bupkus. (Peeled peach bits are really slick.) I tried steamed carrots with equally peeved results. So now I'm just moving to a rougher mush (homemade chunky applesauce, unsmooth green beans) and will move up when he seems ready or as soon as I get bored, whichever comes first.
I figured all this new stuff (sitting, ownselfing, the rev-himself-up-only-to-faceplant pre-crawl) would screw with the sleeping but knock on a freaking forest, he seems okay. In fact, and I can barely type this because I know it's going to change, he has actually started to put himself to sleep. (Can you believe it, because I can't believe it.) And here's why I know those sleep books are bunk: we've done everything absolutely "wrong" - we slept with the kid, we rock him to sleep, we come in every time he cries - and he has still managed to learn how to self-soothe. You will never convince me there is any rhyme or reason for this miraculous change outside of sheer luck (and Will's willingness to do it). All those books put the fear of god into you about not following their rules. Bah! I say. BAH!