I'm a few days late in posting, but on the day the Rangers won the American League Championship Game, Robinson turned three months old! Steve always has me dress Robinson according to the sporting events of the day, and I'm expected to take a picture and send it to him at work via text or email so that he can show people. I haven't had to do it for the Mavs yet, but I do it for Auburn, Cowboys, Rangers, and LSU (if Auburn isn't playing). Steve is very rigid about this.
Of course, no monthly photo shoot is complete without the traditional "Rob and Laney" picture:
Laney gives good face, yes? She looks like Secret Service. I told her to get up there for a picture and she quickly complied, hopping onto the couch so delicately that Rob wasn't disturbed in the slightest. Clearly, he doesn't even seem to know that she's there.
I am surprised to see how red Robinson's hair looks in some of these pictures. In person, he looks so blonde to me...
And now, for a few words about the blessed child, since I've already begun to notice such big changes in him since last month. I better make a few notations before I forget:
He still loves to play with his hands, but he has moved on from "shadowboxing" and is now grabbing at things. This means he's enjoying his activity gym more than ever.
He extends his arms straight out in front of him with his hands in little fists, as if holding an imaginary steering wheel at the 3:00 and the 9:00 and turns the "wheel" back and forth. We call it "driving da bus". Between one and three months of age he did this a lot, especially on the changing table, and I would go through this whole thing with him where we're "driving da bus" to pick up "da kids" and I would act out opening the door to the bus, and then we would drop of "da kids" at "da school". Rob thinks this is the most fun thing ever. And I am an idiot.
I have recently learned that, when in the middle of a complete meltdown, if I hold him in front of something colorful and shiny he'll simmer down. At home, that means stand him in front of my baker's rack and my colorful glassware. Or is it my "gay pride" glassware?
He's able to roll onto his tummy now, but once he's there he's not quite sure what to do with himself. He can't suck his thumb while on his tummy, so he just gets angry.
As long as he's able to strike this pose, he's a happy baby (left hand placement is critical):
We're pretty much over the pacifier at this point. We've decided thumbs are better.
He's at an impasse at the moment. He's almost strong enough for his Bumbo and his Jumperoo, but just not quite.
He is now hypnotized by the TV, which makes him look like a total couch potato, but I realize it's the color that he's drawn towards.