His person has always been shaped like a football. Handy for tucking underneath your arm and making a quick getaway.
After his initial six months of digestive unpleasantness, he is now comically regular. Every morning I plunk him in his high chair and five minutes later he's loudly and enthusiastically working on his morning...project.
His talons grow at the speed of sound. The better for scratching up your face with, my dear.
After an initial lack of interest in stairs, he's all over that.
He plays like a cat with a ball of yarn. He's always tooling around the downstairs batting at toys. (evidence)
If I say, "I'm going to get you" he crawls away as fast as his now-fat little legs can carry him. (evidence)
He thinks the volume knob on the radio is the best toy. I contend it is not.
He still does sad-crawling. That's when he's crying while slowly plodding after me to get me to pick him up. I find it hilarious. Sorry about that, baby.
He does this thing that looks like he's developed a tic but really he's dancing.
I will go try to get a video for you now, of the cat thing. [NOW UPDATED WITH VIDEOS]
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