Spencer is now ten months old, which is dangerously close to a year.
He has just cut a fifth tooth and is on the brink of crawling. He babbles constantly and his new favourite word to say is dog, which he says as "dagh," every time Granby is near.
Spencer never stops moving and wants to be held by me about 100% of the time, for which I can credit my trim arms. We call him "bam bam" for the way he bashes everything with his giant baby hands. If he can knock it over, pull it out or smash it, he will. We're in trouble.
I cherish the moments before Spencer goes to sleep, when he is still and snuggled into me. These are the only times he nurses and I love our quiet time together.