Leo is amazing. At 10 months old, there is nowhere he can’t get to. He’s not walking, technically, but standing and scooting and pushing things all around. He says Mama. He plays peekaboo and claps his hands. He’s almost always smiling. And that smile is no longer toothless. He has three teeth and another on the way.
Leo is a fearless and voracious eater. We may never finish off the last of the baby food, because as soon as he learned how awesome it is to eat real food, he dove into it wholeheartedly. To date, he has never turned his nose up at anything. Except mama… right now he is on an intermittent nursing strike that is frustrating and occasionally maddening to me. It began after a painful blood draw. He doesn’t seem to want to spend much time snuggling with me since then… I think he’s voicing his protest in the only way he knows how.
Emma is a goofy and talkative delight. Her verbal skills are no longer measured in number of words, but in complexity of sentences and creativity of ideas. She has mastered shapes and colors and is counting to 10 (usually in order, but frequently skipping three). The other day, she told us that Leo is white. Surprised and curious about her racial awareness, we began asking her about what color other members of the family are.
Us: What color is Emma?
Emma: White.
Us: What color is mommy?
Emma: White.
Us: What color is Rance?
Emma: Black.
Us: What color is Babycat?
Emma: Umm… Brown.
Us: What color is Wiley?
Emma: Mean.
Spot on.
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