I can't believe it, but here you are, six months old.
You are starting to grow your real hair-it's blondish reddish brown and spiking up softly all over your head. You are trying to crawl, spinning in slow circles when on your belly, tentatively moving forwards at times. You still scoot backwards often and you tend to scoot right off your mat and onto the floor and seem to always want to taste the floor-my reflexes have gotten quite fast and I can (most of the time) slip my hand between your tongue and the floor in time. Though sometimes I miss. Sorry, baby, you've eaten the floor on a few occasions.
You've tasted some fruit and, today, egg yolks. It's so funny when you "eat" because all it seems to do it whet your appetite for breast milk. Today you eagerly dug into your plate of egg yolk, happily bringing it to your mouth. And then, bleh. You played with it, but weren't really in to doing much else. You offered it to me, which was very sweet, and once you felt you'd explored all the pieces of egg enough, you reached for my shirt to signal it was nursing time.
You have recently earned the nickname "Monkey", mostly due to a monkeyish noise you make. I can't describe it, it's a closed mouth soft grunt type of thing. You have also started to make a soft noise that sounds like Steven Tyler of Aerosmith: "ahhhhhh, wah!" It's not loud, but it definitely sounds like you're warming up your vocal chords.
Last week we went to ride on a carousel with two other babies and mamas. The other babes, both boys, were placed sturdily atop horses that wouldn't move and seemed pretty unsure of the whole thing. You rode the horse that went up and down and loved it.