He’s always been dapper. Right from the get-go. But I think it’s safe to say, he’s grown into a bow tie, just a smidge.
Today. He’s eleven months. He’s sporting two freshly sprouted teeth, sitting proudly on his bottom gums. He’s persnickety. And particular. He can tolerate soy! And yogurt. But sadly, we still have work to do in the cheese sector. He’s jovial. And also not. He’s our little Roomba. Making sure no speck is left behind on the floor. He is vocal. With shrieks. Ahs. And an every once in awhile ma. He still prefers the boob over bottle. And he’s loved dearly by those who came into the world before him.
I love him so. Happy eleven months, Mr. Har. We’re glad you came. So glad you came.
+Of note… in looking back at my blog log, a year ago I earned my very fetching Harry Potter scar. Remember that? That was special. Since then, we’ve taken on no house projects without professional assistance. The upcoming week also held a whole host of issues including getting rear-ended by a woman who was never taught a bit of decency, and the eldest barfed at the dinner table. Here’s hoping this year is kinder. At least a bit.
