The Honeymoon is Over
Baby Guppy is ten months now. He is crawling and pulling himself up. He has teeth and loves to eat. Additionally, like any growing child, he’s decided that the toys I think are best for him are too babyish, so he’s ignoring them and pursuing 3yo Drake’s toys, which are chock-full of chokable bits. He is also fascinated by the top of the stairs, and can get there very quickly. He also isn’t fooled a bit by the “pretty little house” we got to keep him contained and safe from the attention of his older brother. He screams if we put him in it. Even if he didn’t, Drake either climbs in and shows affection in the way that causes G. Grod and me much anxiety. Or Drake opens the door and lets Guppy out. Guppy then crawls to some of Drake’s toys, Drake starts to cry, and takes defensive action, then Guppy cries and needs to be picked up.
I miss my cute, toothless baby who stayed where I put him, and played with the toys I put in front of him. That stage was awesome. Don’t get me wrong; this stage is fun. But it’s a great deal more work for my tired, virus-ridden self.