Henry. He's not your usual Driskill babe. He's into everything. Except toys. Which means he's learning all about the word "no". I'd feel sorry for him, especially when I look at that cute face, but I know better. He's eighteen months old, 50% for height and weight and one tough cookie...no crying for shots, no crying when tackled, no crying when carried around like a dolly. But a whole lotta crying about the six teeth coming through and the fact that he can't play basketball in the driveway with Jack. And speaking of basketball, he's seriously addicted:
He likes to have one (of any size) at all times. I got him up the other day and he had one in his hot little hand and was grinning like crazy cause I hadn't caught him with it when he went to bed. He has also given up his morning nap (man, I drug that out as long as possible) but he has replaced it with a need for cuddles on the couch, which I'm happy to oblige. Just weeks ago he wouldn't have been caught dead sucking his thumb in public (I don't think the other kids even knew he sucked it at all...only in his crib, only at bed time), but he's been popping it in there pretty regularly lately. He says the usual words but my favorite is when he yells "Jack", which is pretty much all the time. He is a sweet sweet (busy) boy.
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