Looks like the Monkey is commemorating the start of February (and his 7 month and 12 day anniversary) by finally attaining forward movement. Not for him the classic crawl, but rather the sniper wriggling through the underbrush on his belly - if your average sniper carried a neon orange plastic cup clenched between his teeth, rather than a high-powered rifle slung on his back, the comparison would be exact. Needless to say, much of my time today has been devoted to frantically baby-proofing the living area.
This morning, he stealthily crept up on one of our cats, although by 'stealthily', I actually mean 'accompanied by squawks which grew in pitch and volume as he neared his target'. I considered heading him off at the pass, then decided that now was as good a time as any for them both to learn. He grabbed the fluffy pelt he'd been admiring for so long. She screeched, turned about, and smacked him on the face. To my surprise, there was nary a cry from his end, so I thought she's just given him a pat. Turns out, she'd caught him with a shallow scratch - but I think he was so stoked having attained a good handful of cat hair that he just didn't register the blow. Anyway, he has a lovely piratical scar down his cheek to show for it.
One more first was at yesterday's playgroup meeting. The Monkey had his eye on the Divine Miss J, and spent a good deal of time staring soulfully at her as she lay next to him. At some point, he worked up the courage, rolled over, and saluted the young lady with all the respect her station - flat on her back, legs akimbo - demanded. I'm not sure whether his advances were returned enthusiastically or not, but when they broke apart, both parties seemed well-satisfied. It would have been quite romantic, had he not been caught licking the head of the young gentleman on his other side scant minutes earlier.
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