Our Cookie Monster

We finally sound a fattening, finger food that Truman likes -- homemade cookies. In his hand is a brown sugar cookie Ben made for him on Friday. In fact, on Saturday, Ben sat down at the coffee table with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. Truman crawled over to the table and pulled up and starting crying. At first, we couldn't figure out what was wrong because he was happily playing just a moment before. Then we realized, he wanted a cookie. We gave him one, and he was instantly happy again. Since then, he has learned to look in my hands for them.

Before Truman was born, we vowed not to feed sweets to our child until he was three or four so as to try to avoid training him to have a sweet tooth. My, how the rules have changed. As I've said, our current rule is he likes it, he doesn't throw it up, and it doesn't hurt him.

Speaking of vomit, we managed to handle a public vomit session at Cheddar's this weekend with grace and with minimal difficulty. In fact, I'm not sure anyone else even noticed.

By the way, what looks like the Fifth Disease on his left cheek is actually where he had a run-in with the front lawn, and an acorn won. He sort of has the outline of acorn on his face. I guess that goes with last week's mystery knot on the back of his head.

There were several more brief instances of standing on his own. We've yet to catch one on camera because they're too short, but we've got it handy and ready.