Sunday, September 14, 2014

George at One Year, Part Three

This kid loves swimming.  So much.  The funniest part is that George seriously believes that he can swim on his own and gets upset at us when we don't allow him to swim around.  But yeah, he totally cannot swim.  He sinks.  Trust us.

George has become quite the Mocking Jay.  (Ha, Hunger Games reference.  High five.)  He'll just randomly mimic our noises or words.  And, in true parent fashion, we freak out and gush every time he does it.  It's just SO CUTE.  It literally makes our day each time it happens.  And then we talk about it for the next three days or so.

George says, "bed time", "kitty", basically all of the colors, "Brandon", "baby", "bed time", "bum change", among many others.  He still says "grandpa", "blue", "Mom", and "Dad" the most.

Pulling himself up even more than usual and getting more and more daring about it.  Yeah, um, yikes.  Like the roll-out garbage can, people's legs, any and every precarious object...

He can go down the stairs... but only two steps.  That's his limit, apparently.

George is understanding and taking direction, which I guess he's done for a while, but I just starting noticing it more because more and more my direction is to keep him from killing himself, hahaha!  Yep.  "George, can I have that, please?" is a big one to get stuff out of his mouth.  He ate a piece of vinyl this morning (August 16), true story.

Each time George sees his reflection he stops and has to wave and flirt with himself.  Once he figures out that it's him, he has to find something, crawl back to the mirror, and watch himself playing with/using said object.  It's pretty hilarious.

George randomly decided to hate bed time, which was lame.  He's always been great about laying in his bed; even if he doesn't fall asleep, he's still happy most of the time until he does fall asleep.  This month had him freaking out once he figured out Brad or I wasn't in the room.  Awkward.  Luckily we've smoothed it over and he's back to sleeping and far less boobing about the fact that Mom and Dad don't want to hang out with him at 3:00 AM.  George, trust me, there's no one I'd enjoy spending time with at the butt-crack of dawn.  This is not an insult specifically against you.

He's developed this weird mini-temper-tantrum thing lately.  Basically it looks like his constipated, vocally grunting and clenching his fists while his face goes red.  He'll do this for a split second before gasping for air.  It's sort of hilarious.  But also, you know, sort of like, "What the heck, dude?  What's with the tantrum?"

George is a climber, but not in the most logical sense.  He basically tries to climb everything that he shouldn't and that's also dangerous.  Especially the fireplace mantel-area, which is rock-hard concrete and has no-where to move around so I have no idea why it's attractive.

More and more George understands what we're saying and it's pretty freaking cool.  I can ask him, "Can I see that?" and he'll hand me what he's got.  This works most of the time when he's put something in his mouth, but sometimes he's determined to eat the piece of paper he's put in there and he'll run away.  Again, super funny... but also, "What the heck, dude?"

Often when George crawls and he's ready to do it at full speed he'll literally put his head down like he's a charging rhino or something and then he'll just zoom forward... without looking where he's going.  He'll often trip himself or almost run into people or walls.  He'll literally face plant from excitedly crawl-charging like this.

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