Bookworm

I once heard my father say that babies aren't all that exciting; there's some truth in that statement. Until recently, parenting Gareth has been nothing more than meeting his needs. Feed. Change Diaper. Rock to sleep. Repeat. Yeah, it's cool watching him grow but it's not all that engaging. Let's face it, infants are little more than needy blobs of flesh.

Recently, however, Gareth has started to interact with his surroundings. He's learning to use his hands--he tries to hold his own bottle, he reaches out and grabs our shirt/hair/piercings when we pick him up, and maneuvers anything he can snag, like a burp cloth, to his mouth. Baby drool covers almost everything we own. Despite the grossness of all the drool, Gareth's newfound interest in his surroundings means playtime is upon us! When we talk to him, he reacts. He looks in our direction, smiles, and makes any number of indecipherable noises. He's just starting to laugh and giggle. I swear, most of his laughs and giggles come at his dad's expense. From his reactions, Gareth thinks I'm pretty damn goofy.

Of all the new things he's learning, his discovery of books has to be the most satisfying. When we read to him, Gareth stares wide-eye at the pictures and listens intently. From time to time, he reaches out and tries to touch the book. He really likes the crinkle notebook he received recently. He grabs the entire book and smashes it into his face.


His favorite book of the moment is Batty Bat (how goth is that?).


Did I mention he's able to sit up for short periods of time? Yeah, we have to prop him up with a pillow or place him in the corner of the chair, but he keeps himself from tipping over . . . most of the time.