Five months and counting...

Clearly babies like putting things in their mouths.  The world is a tasty place.  Espen has gotten to the point now that the final resting place of anything he gets his hands on is predetermined. It doesn't matter how big or small or stone or plastic the object may be. It's goin' in the gob.

Plastic spoon? Sure. Car payment? Yum.  Hairy cat toy? Yes Please. This is how the requisite pound of dirt eaten in a lifetime begins.

The Little Bear has also discovered that he WANTS and does not appreciate being held out on, taken away from, or otherwise redirected.  That zucchini the size of him is what he's interested and darn you to heck if you try to pry his lips off of it and give him a teething ring instead. I know how he feels.  After all, who doesn't like gumming an elephant squash.

Making sure he doesn't ingest biohazards and/or colonies of wasps is pretty much a full time job and I can only wonder how I'll develop the necessary cunning to keep up with him when he starts crawling.  Rolling over and scooting about on his tummy is tricky enough. Somehow, I do believe he will live to see twenty in spite of his grandiose oral aspirations...call it ignorant optimism, but that's what you need to think that things like "Discovering a New World" and "Raising A Baby" are a cinch.