And it begins - the dance of parenthood. We will strive to balance his protection with encouraging him to (safely! safely) explore his world. He seems to have inherited a combination of my impatience and perfectionism with Scott's insistence on doing everything himself, without assistance. Imagine a baby's frustration. And then imagine his.
This grimace is actually just Zephyr feeling his new lower teeth against his still-toothless (but not for long) upper gums, but I like to pretend he's expressing his frustration.
The other type of mobility, or lack thereof, is taking place in Zephyr's little groin. His left testicle has remained up there, undescended, and at this point we know it's never moving down on its own. So it'll need a little help. Surgical help.
Orchidopexy: big, scary word, but evidently this simple outpatient surgery will take only about an hour and a half, and will be harder on me than on him. I'm trying not to worry about it until it's time (next Wednesday), but I can't help it. Since he'll have to take it easy for a couple weeks after the surgery, we're taking advantage of the balmy playtime we have right now.
And in case any of you were worried that Zephyr doesn't look as chubby as he used to, check out the belly in all of its luscious splendor. He is my fat little drupelet. My juicy little inchworm.
...and when we get home again, we cannot stop hugging him. We never put him down.