30 Weeks

Arlo hit 30 weeks yesterday, and I apparently didn't take many photos this week—most likely because he usually looks like this:

Everything is delicious. 

If he's awake, there's a good chance he's shoving something into his mouth. My finest moment this week was leaving him unattended so I could pee, and returning to the living room to find him rolling around in a corner, gnawing on a cord. He hadn't been alone long enough to do any damage, but good Lord! Step aside, mamas—the Mother of the Year Award is clearly mine.

In case that doesn't clinch the deal, I also allowed Danny to put a temporary police badge tattoo on our unsuspecting child's calf.

Love that little leg.

Anyway. No major developments this week. Arlo's still rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, and we've seen him do two legit crawl-steps (you know what I mean) on two separate occasions. 

We're loving letting him try different foods, and I broke down and bought him some baby cookies (that taste like a melty piece of cardboard) that he seems to enjoy. He somehow makes such a mess with them that, by the time he's finished, you'd swear he'd just devoured a rack of BBQ ribs, not an innocent-looking little cookie. 

Pre-mess. You don't wanna see the aftermath, believe me.

Oh, wait, here's one of him not stuffing something into his face:

But he totally ate that blanket 2 seconds after I took this photo.