Noah has entered into, what I like to call, the Death Wish phase of his babyhood.
He is now always about 45 seconds away from doing some kind of serious bodily harm to himself. He loves poking his fingers into electric sockets, pulling himself up on Judah's rickety chairs, reaching for tiny objects to stuff into his mouth and choke on, etc.
We are exhausted just trying to keep him alive.
Now that he's full on crawling, there is no moment in which we can just leave him alone to chill on his own. He's also a squirmy fish when you try to hold him--contorting this way and that, wanting you to literally bring him the moon and other far away objects beyond human reach (to grab and put in his mouth of course).
But he's also giving off the cheesiest, most irresistible smiles now:
One of the best parts of being a parent? Not having to resist the irresistible. I can't stop planting big ol' smooches on this chubby little guy!