You’re crawling now, so your daddy and I need to step up our babyproofing efforts (i.e., no more whiskey on the bottom shelf). You go from tummy to sitting or standing with ease. You love to cruise around the perimeter of your play yard while hollering for someone to rescue you.
George is still very protective, but he keeps his distance given your penchant for hair pulling.
You almost always look surprised. I think it’s your eyebrows.
Though you drool and mouth constantly, you’re still a toothless old hag. I mean, baby.