The Mother Lode.

I struck gold on the laughing front this evening right before bedtime. This footage comes near the end of - I kid you not - a 15 minute session of raucous laughter. My tummy ached afterward.

Pudgy Legs

Archer: Do these shoes make my butt look big?
Mom: No, your diaper is probably full. Your shoelace is untied, buddy.
Archer: What about my legs? How do my legs look?
Mom: Exquisitely chunky, my boy. Simply divine.

Is Archer Giving Me The Finger?

Maybe he has finally had it with his mom taking so many damn pictures...

More Cute Pics...

Phil's Strange Growth...

Rascal.

With mobility comes the sweet freedom of choosing your own toys...

The Mimic

This is just funny...

Brilliant Child

Being an English teacher, I felt obligated to take this short video of Archer reading a book. This is of course completely staged; I gave him the book, already open, and took video at least ten times before he looked like he was actually showing some semblance of interest in reading. This begs the question: how much do we place our own values/hang ups/silly notions onto the child? I would estimate we are accurately representing the child's motivation only a fraction of the time. Most of the time we see ourselves; hopes, fears, baggage and all.

Daily Changes

We are at a time in Archer's life when he makes tremendous strides every day. Four days ago, he was indiscriminately mushing food by the fistful; today he delicately pinched a piece of puffed rice with his thumb and forefinger. And just look at his brand new crawling moves...

Struggle

Sometimes, after a long, frustrating day of trying to crawl, ya just gotta take a little time out to suck your thumb.

Zombie Family

I thought it would be refreshing to dress our baby up for something horrific for Halloween, partially as a rejection of all those sugar-sweet costumes they make for kids these days, but mostly in the spirit of the spookiness of the holiday. So, a zombie family were we. Phil stopped me short of smearing gobs of cakey makeup all over Archie, but allowed a few swipes of white and gray on his forehead and cheeks for effect. He immediately ingested the small amount of blood red I put on his chin, and was truly terrified of the mangled baby doll. The dismembered arm befuddled him -- at first he was thrilled to have unlimited access to fingers for biting and sucking, but then the rubberized texture offended his distinguished taste for real live human digits. We went to our friends Jeff, CJ and Finn's house to hand out treats, and Archer spent the evening stealing Eliot's pacifier, moaning and wailing like a proper baby zombie.

More Hard Earned Laughs...

On the Menu

This surprises me: I am really into making Archer's baby food. I feel like a mad chemist, mixing new ingredients and experimenting with his budding tastes. It is oddly satisfying to beat all kinds of food into a quivering pulp and offer it to him like it is chocolate-covered awesome. Babies are so gullible. Actually, my hope is that organic fruits, vegetables, and porridge will become his personal version of chocolate. Sure, it's a total pipe dream to image Archer at his fifth birthday party rejecting ice cream in favor of kale and swiss chard salad, but I do feel good about loading him up with it early and maybe helping him to develop a more sophisticated palette. And I don't feed him anything I don't eat myself -- in mush form, even. Yum.

Who am I kidding -- this kid is probably going to refuse everything but chicken nuggets as soon as he hits three. Nevertheless, armed with a miniature food processor and Super Baby Food by Ruth Yaron (thanks Bridget and Alicia), I've been creating a veritable feast of mushy fare each week, and so far nothing has been rejected outright -- except for egg yolks. Actually, Archer didn't even reject those, but his stomach did. Barf. In the photo, from left to right, are what's on this week's menu: blackberry applesauce, broccoli, stewed prunes, potatoes, super porridge (oatmeal, amaranth, wheat bran, flax meal). I also made those teething biscuits, which are the consistency of plywood and utterly delightful for that slobbering, double-toothed munchkin.