the blur: month five

Grip’s fifth month has been a blur of activity. He learned how to roll from his back to his front (we both got to see his very first time). He got a tooth on the bottom front, then another. Now one’s about to break through the top. He’s learned how to sit up almost completely by himself — with great posture to boot. He traveled on a plane for his first time, to go down to the South to meet my side of the family. (His behavior on the plan was predictably mellow and wonderful.) He got to meet and interact with other babies, not to mention uncles, aunts, great uncles and aunts, second cousins (once removed?), his great grandmother, other relatives with family relations to complicated to trace, and my mom’s entire school faculty. He went on his first extended car trip, from Cookeville, TN, to Atlanta, GA. (He didn’t like that much.)

One of the babies he met on the trip, Noah (my mom’s secretary’s grandson), is five days older than him and extremely physically vigorous. He knows how to get up on his hands and knees and rock back and forth. Grip apparently took this as a challenge — a day or two after we got back to Seattle, he started struggling up onto his knees. (Thanks Noah!) He’s going to be crawling before we know it, and we’re starting to panic about how un-baby-proofed our place is.

Just yesterday, there was another epochal event in the Life o’ Grip: his first boy cousin was born. Samuel Flynn Guy is almost as tall as G was when he was born (21″ to Grip’s 22.5″), but he weighs a full three pounds less. We’re thinking he’s going to be, as a child, tall, skinny, gawky, slightly nerdy, and a little bit wild — i.e., we think he’s going to be his father George. He could do a lot worse. We know it’s going to be a few years yet, but we can’t wait for Grip and Sam to buddy-up and start causing mischief.

So that’s where the G-Man is today: a new cousin to play with, new physical skills, a new regional fan club — in behavior, appearance, and family accouterments, more and more a little boy every day. It’s a cruel irony of this diary that the more happens worthy of recording, the less time Mom and I have to record it. Such is parenthood, I suppose.