Midnights, March: 7

Babies, they say, resist sleep when learning a new skill. As far as I can tell, Albie’s newest skill involves digging his little fingernails into my cheek and tossing my face to the side so he can take a gander at my brains through my ear canal. Then he gets his wee paws in there and starts digging around like a badger scrabbling after earthworms. 

Otherwise he's practicing crawling.

Earlier tonight when I laid him on the changing table, he surprised me by immediately rolling over, planting his palms, and scuttling backward, his feet flailing among all of the Changing Things. 

“Look out, Mama!” he hollered. “Time to scoot! It’s scootin’ time!” 

Son, nooo! I called after him, but it was too late. He’d scooted right away.