"Stinker" is his middle name

We, as a family, have been tired lately.

Really. Dang. Tired.

Thomas has been working on several teeth for a handful of months, and he's not the friendliest teether. It makes him (off and on) a very cranky boy. Sometimes in the middle of the night. Sometimes several times a night. 

Well hello, Thomas.

This, in turn, makes me (off and on) a cranky momma. Sometimes in the middle of the night. But usually in the morning. And my crankiness grows exponentially with every dang night of interrupted sleep. 

Last Sunday was hard; Tommy squelched
and fought his desperately-needed nap.
He acted so rotten that I took him home after sacrament meeting
where he continued to fight sleep. UGH.

After sending a plea on Instagram for some ideas on how to help Tommy sleep better at night, I got some great tips and tricks. My friend Charley told me that her baby has been getting hungry during the night, so I tried feeding Tommy a few nights ago when he woke up just before 2:00; he pounded 6 oz. and fell back to sleep quickly. (In all truth, he woke up twice more, but not for long.) AND HE SLEPT UNTIL 7:03 AM! 

That was Sunday night.We're still figuring stuff out, but a bottle in the middle of the night seems to be helpful. I woke up on my own Monday morning, guys. I woke up at 6:47, and I didn't feel exhausted. I'm praying pretty hard that this catches on.

Besides teething, Tommy is moving. All the time, he's moving. Crawling like a lizard. Climbing onto all the things (ALL THE THINGS!). Shoveling treats into his mouth. Getting into stuff he ought not get into. Pointing. Snuggling into our shoulders and biting our necks and shoulders like a tiny vampire. Watching our every move.  Dropping stuff from his highchair and watching intently to see if it might do something besides fall this time. Bonking his head on all sorts of things. Splashing and kicking and standing in the tub. Scampering away when his diaper is being changed or when we try to dress him. Knocking on things. Pounding things together. 

He's also being pretty darned verbal. Squealing at the top of his lungs. Squelching when we eat something without offering him a bite. Imitating words. Shouting at us when he is displeased (for any number of reasons). Ignoring his parents when we tell him "no," or "stop."

This is a real fun age, is what I'm getting at.

Rocking on Gramma O's rocking chair
(not unlike Edith Ann)

He loves perching on his dad's neck,
oftentimes whacking his head like a bongo drum.