I missed a month. Poor third child.
Last month, Wes was barely sitting up, needing a boppy pillow as a safety net, and would keel over after a few minutes and lay on his pillow, kicking his legs and trying to sit straight up by doing a little baby crunch. Now he is everywhere, army crawling, pushing himself back up into a seated position, rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, and terrorizing poor Derek (who gets him back by stealing his toys, which Welsey has already learned he does not like).
At seven months, he still wasn't sleeping through the night and was taking terrible thirty minute naps during the day. He still wakes up all night, but now at least he takes some gloriously long day naps. Baby steps.
Also at seven months, Wes was just starting to pick at his food, sometimes getting stuff into his mouth and sometimes not, but mostly refusing to be fed anything by spoon. Now, he still won't willingly eat off of a spoon, but he does shovel an impressive amount of food into that little mouth and has already got a pincher grasp dextrous enough for little frozen peas. Which he loves.
Some things are still the same. He is still a super snuggly, loving, excitable little guy who loves his momma more than anything else. He still shrieks louder than his brothers and babbles and giggles and coos as much as possible. He still isn't a huge fan of his carseat, but he now just kind of whimpers and looks at me tragically when I strap him in instead of full-on wailing.
And he is still his brothers' favorite toy, though with a new and improved movement function that they think is really fun when they kick around a ball and taunt him to come and get it.
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