Milo in the moment

Milo just turned seven months old last week. He cut his first tooth the very same day.

Yes, that's right. He has a tooth, people. A tooth. A razor-sharp little cutting tool poking up from his gum. I'm simultaneously proud and horrified. Proud, because my little boy is growing up. Horrified, because my little boy is growing up. Natch.

In other new developments, Milo has finally figured out how to bring his toes, those beloved objects of desire that until last week seemed to be so far beyond his reach, up to his mouth to suck on them. At last! Victory is his!

And yesterday, for the first time ever, he rolled over from his belly to his back. We'll see how long it takes for him to repeat this mind-defying feat.

He's recently become obsessed with our dog, Nell, and shrieks with delight whenever she enters the room. When he's on the couch with me, he'll keep his eyes glued to the far edge of the family room table as he waits to catch a glimpse of her lying on her dog bed on the floor beyond the table. He knows she's there. He can hear her deep doggy breathing. When she finally does lift her head off the bed to look over at us, he shouts with laughter, his entire body shuddering with glee.

He's now able to sit up by himself and play with a toy for long stretches of time. He reaches for things and passes them easily from hand to hand, examining them curiously from all angles before stuffing them into his mouth to discover what they're really like.

He's also stuffing his mouth with some actual edible items these days. His favourites are peas, bananas, and oatmeal, but he also likes rice cereal, carrots, split mung beans, and sweet potato. Barley cereal is considered tolerable, but only when mixed with something tastier, like peas. Avocados are NOT considered even remotely edible, and should not be brought within a five-foot radius of Milo for any reason -- except for making mama giggle, of course. (I've discovered that there's a direct inverse relationship between Milo's fondness for a particular food item and the extent to which I enjoy seeing the facial expression he makes upon tasting it. I'm trying really hard to refrain from sadistically manipulating him for my own amusement, but sometimes it's difficult.)

Speaking of food, I'm overjoyed to announce that Milo no longer needs his 11:00 p.m. "dream feed." He's now sleeping from around 7:30 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. without waking for a boob fix. This means that I no longer have to stay awake until 11:00 p.m. every night. For the first time since I got pregnant, I've actually been able to sleep for eight unbroken hours at a stretch. And the heavens opened and choirs of angels sang...

(The downside to my liberated evenings is that I haven't been compelled to blog quite as often these days. Sorry folks, but when my choices are: A. going to bed early with my man or B. staying up late in front of a computer, option A definitely strikes me as the sexier of the two options -- as much for the extra sleep as for any other possible bedroom activities, alas.)

We've even launched Milo down the slippery slope of scheduled activities by signing him up for swimming lessons. First infant swimming... then baby sign language... then Mother Goose story time at the library. Next thing you know, he's going to be learning karate while playing baseball at violin practice, all the while performing sleight-of-hand magic tricks while riding on a unicycle.

Okay, so babies don't come with an off switch. I've been forced to acknowledge the truth of this. But wouldn't it be nice if they had some kind of toggle switch that allowed us to vary the speed at which they grow up?

It feels to me like Milo was shot from a cannon seven months ago and has been hurtling down the baby Autobahn at a gazillion miles an hour ever since.

It's all happening way too fast.

Could someone please tell me where the off ramp for the scenic route is? Please? Now that my mat leave is more than half over (NOOOO!), I'd like the following five months to meander along as slowly as humanly possible. The windier the route, the better. I know we'll get to our destination eventually -- I'm just not willing to hurry the journey. I don't want to miss a single moment of it.