Eight. Eight. Eight.

Maybe if I keep saying it over and over again, I will finally be able to wrap my head around the fact that my itty bitty baby is now EIGHT months old.

And crawling.

And waving.

And chewing and eating like a toddler.

And sleeping through almost every night.

And SMART. His latest trick is to let out a high-pitched blood curdling scream as if he is stuck or hurt, wait for you to come running or even just look over at him, and then smile. Neener neener. Made ya look. The boy is clever. And very very noisy.

Eight Months Old!
(And always happy in the mornings.)

Trouble.

Look at this beautiful boy! Oh my, how I love this crazy kid.