We're settled into our new home, which happens to be about 700 feet from our previous home. Our apartment complex has a small number of not quite stand alone "cottages." (I can't imagine a context outside of a fairy tale in which the word "cottage," in reference to a dwelling, would not have quotation marks.) It's all one floor and off to the edge of the property near lawns, the complex's garden plots and grassy marshes (read: very pretty but way more insects). A giant pain in the ass it is to move all your worldly possessions 700 feet. But since the job of Jeff's dreams did not happen this academic year, we decided it would be worth relocating to a place that does not have the steepest, hardest flight of stairs to ever separate two floors of living space, especially when one of our household will be newly mobile, but not gracefully so, in the next fifteen months. Lord knows the genes are not with him on this. The only real downside to the new place is that we are sleeping at ground level instead of on the third floor, so when the tsunami comes, it's going to be a real mess.
Anyway, between work and the move, I've been busy doing a lot of procrastinating, so I'm way overdue on composing a solid post of Kurt development news. To start with, he regularly sleeps between five and six hours at a time these days. This small leap for mankind happened pretty much the first night I was back at work, which makes me think I may have been contributing to his previous pattern of getting up every three or four hours. Either he knew Mommy was a light sleeping chump who would scoop him up at the first peep he made, or…well, I don't really have an alternative explanation. Anyway, the long sleeping pattern seems to be holding even on nights when I'm home.
It's getting hard to get a picture of him with his fist not in his mouth, like so:
Indeed, he even enjoys stuffing the occasional toy, blanket, or other person's fist into his mouth, photo forthcoming.
On the subject of toys, the bouncer I thought was a complete waste of money the first eleven weeks of his life has now become the most awesome Kurt amusement device ever. Gone are the early days when he sat immobile and passive:
Now he loudly and emphatically commands the bouncing animals to do his bidding:
Meanwhile his swing is falling out of favor, which is a good thing, because it was free.
He continues to fail to notice that the cats exist. The cats, while used to him, are not particularly impressed by him, moist, loud, flailing creature that he currently is. Anyone who is worried about cats and babies together (Marlo, I am speaking to you) can relax. They go nowhere near any place where Kurt is likely to be for any length of time, such as a bassinet. Even his changing table, which they initially thought was the best cat bed ever invented, has been abandoned.
He has been a formula-only baby for three weeks now. Best. Decision. Ever.
Long story short, we're keeping him.
(Thank you, Danielle, who often takes better pictures of my child than I do.)