Tommy's zest for life continues to amaze me. I love to watch him stuff his face with pomegranate seeds, laugh out loud while running, or sing out 'bye bye' in upper octaves that have been known to set off security alarms. He requests group hugs and is a very generous giver of kisses and waves. He's never met a stranger he didn't know, especially fellow Metro riders. If he keeps up these flirting skills into his teenage years, we're in trouble.
He likes to keep a close eye on his loved ones, often signing for their presence as soon as he notices them missing. And the dancing! The unadulterated joy he feels while spontaneously dancing and laughing is downright infectious. I dare anyone to not smile while watching him dance. Michael Jackson is his favorite artist, but he's not picky.
He's obsessed with doors and keys, balls, wiping and scrubbing, toothbrushes, and watching videos of himself. Tommy maintains his patience with being groomed, becoming uncharacteristically still while I put lotion on his face or wipe his nose. He proudly sports a curly mullet and has all but run off his baby fat. No one can make him laugh quite like his papa. He's developing his words and signs at lightning speed. The only thing that he seems to do slowly these days is grow teeth. Still no sign of any beyond the six he has. No matter, I still love that T Bone. Mama out.