Stalking the Wild Cheerio

We've started giving Sylvie a couple of Cheerios with each meal and as a result, I've discovered new and fascinating things about what I thought was merely another breakfast cereal. I never thought I'd say this but they seem to posess some sort of basic animal instinct for survival. Watching Sylvie trying to eat them somewhat reminds me of Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom: Sylvie stalks her prey slowly; she leans forward in her highchair and bats at the rings like a cat with a mouse until finally, her chubby fist pounces! For good measure she whacks her closed fist with the Cheerio trapped inside on the tray, stunning the crunchy oat ring sensless before bringing it to her gaping, toothless maw. Oh, but the Cheerio is a cunning creature, clinging tenaciously to the palm and temporarily thwarting Sylvie's attempt to gum it to death. She'll bite down on her thumb, then look confused--oh wait, that's not it--pull her hand back and open her fist to make sure the Cheerio is still there, then bring it back into her mouth and try to fit her whole fist inside so the Cheerio cannot escape. But the Cheerio remains safely encapsulated inside of her own hand! Oh you wily, sneaky Cheerio! When she does finally achieve her goal the Cheerio still has a trick or two up it's sleeve (or it would if it had sleeves) and will slip out on a stream of drool, seeking refuge on Sylvie's chin. She knows it's there but can't quite see it, even when she tucks her chin into her chest. At last however the O, weakened by the prolonged mauling, succumbs to a swipe of her sticky tongue and disappears into the abyss. 

Funky Helmet, Helmet's got the Funk!

Sylvie is 8 months old today! She's getting so big now; still on the lean side but long. Just this morning she demonstrated a new trick; one-handed clapping! Er, sort of. To explain---often while nursing Sylvie will smack her free open hand against my chest repeatedly. I started to put my hand in between hers and my chest, moving it counter to hers so that we were in effect clapping. When I first began to do this she seemed irritated and would grab at my fingers and pull my hand down as if to get it out of the way of hers. But this morning, she appeared to catch on to what I was doing and stopped nursing to focus on our clapping. Theron was watching and after we'd clapped a few times, she'd look up at him and smile really big as if to say, "See how well I've got mommy trained?"

She goes back to the doctor's office today for an assessment of her noggin. Please keep all relevant body appendages crossed that she will soon be free of her helmet. It really hasn't bothered her much to wear the helmet, but despite swabbings with alcohol and antibacterial stuff and coatings of cornstarch to absorb wetness, it kinda stinks like an old shoe. What can I say, my kid has a sweaty head.

This evening, Theron and I are interviewing a daycare provider who is based back in Watertown. We've heard great things about this place and while it's not overly convenient to our new digs, it's close to the design studio where Theron often does contract work. In fact, he's been offered a full time contract job until the end of January. We keep hoping that it'll become permanent, so keep those relevant appendages crossed for that to happen too.