Six months old

That would be my son. On Sunday. Holy crap. Wasn't it just yesterday I was pushing him out and then bringing him home from the hospital? A lot has changed with him in six months.

He has doubled his birth weight.

He's chatting up a storm, especially to himself in the crib in the morning (fun listening over the monitor), and laughing at nothing in particular.

He notices when you leave the room now. And strangers are starting to freak him out.

He tries to play peekaboo with his teething towel.

He has discovered his hands and feet, the latter of which are regularly making it into his mouth.

He's grabbing everything in sight and sticking it into his mouth.

He's still trying to cut some teeth.

He rolls over like a champ and is trying to crawl, although rolling down the river is his primary modus operandi of transportation.

He eats oatmeal and carrots and butternut squash.

So different from the seven-pound, 13-ounce bundle we brought home from the hospital who eat, pooped, cried and then did it all again.

I love you, Boo. Happy half birthday. And happy Fourth to you!