34 Weeks

Arlo is 34 weeks old today. Some weeks, there are so many great photos on my phone that I can't decide which ones to share with you. Then, there are weeks like this one, where I have to scrape the bottom of the barrel to come up with these:


Gnawing on a roll.

Gnawing on some keys.

Gnawing on a gift from a friend. (I caught a glimse of what Christmas is going to be like—Arlo eating wrapping paper and Scooter shitting himself, trying to figure out what's in the package.)

 

Arlo's still spoiling us on the teething front. Two more top ones popped through over the weekend, putting him at six total—and he's still himself. No crazy horror stories to report. He has been waking up during the night, though, and we don't know if it's because of the teeth or a growth spurt or what. Either way, he hasn't been giving us his typical 11 1/2 solid hours.

 

A few mornings ago, he woke me up too early, so I brought him into bed with me for some snuggles. I ended up being late for work because I absolutely couldn't tear myself away from this face:  



 

And I know you can't blame me.