Allan's adventures

Big Al was full of it this weekend. Being off of the oxygen must have lifted his spirits. He was so active and bouncy and giggly. He has mastered being able to sit and spin on his bottom to turn around and around and get things. And he has gotten very proficient at pulling himself "up" on things: chairs, tables, the side of the tub (Griffith knows that you have to sit on your bottom in the tub and would take Allan's hands off of the side whenever he tried to pull himself up.)

Sometimes Allan gets a little bit beyond himself, though. And usually at the most inconvenient of moments. Like Saturday night, for instance. Jay was out playing poker, Allan was sitting on the floor playing. Griff was in my lap very nearly asleep, warm and cozy. The possibility of a long, quiet night at home was within my grasp. I closed my eyes, breathing in the sweet smell of my freshly washed baby only to be jerked back to reality by Allan squealing like a stuck pig. In trying to get something out of the bins he had managed to do a belly-flop. That wasn't why he was yelling, though. He was squawling because he couldn't quite reach and didn't want to crawl any more. At which point, Griff roused up and vomited all over himself, the chair, and me. Super. He then proceeded to run around the house for the next hour or so, periodically vomiting (without missing a stride so it wasn't like there was any warning when Vesuvius was going to blow) -- on the floor, on himself, on his toys. And, every time that Griff got any where close to sleep Allan would either squeal and wake him or, if he was within striking distance, kick him. Hard.

That's NOT helping, Allan.

Similarly Jay left Allan seated by his activity table while he took Griff in to the nursery to rock him to sleep. Just as Griff was about out for the count, there was a thud and Allan started yowling. He had managed to push/crawl/walk the table across the living room floor but when he got it off of the carpet and on to the hardwood, it got away from him and he crashed to the ground. Can't take your eyes off of him.

On Saturday we were all watching the big (disappointing) game and Allan was in my lap when Griffith wanted "up!" So he climbed up on to my other leg. Whereupon Allan began pushing his brother with his feet, trying to knock him off. When I said "no" and moved Allan so that he couldn't get his feet on his brother, he took it pretty well. Except for the part where he then leaned forward and tried to bite Griff. Brat.