A year later, and he's still a redhead. We were happy to celebrate both Easter and Tate's birthday last weekend. And even happier that about a day before his birthday, he stood up on the sidewalk (he recently started his Frankenstein-esque walking) and promptly fell right back down, eye first. So all of the birthday feature his shiny shiner.
I'd have to say that Tate has been our happiest baby. He's of the Elf school of thought, given that smiling seems to be his favorite. He's also been our earliest crawler and walker. He's not as happy now that he's mega mobile, given that every time he reaches something, Traci or I are quick to take it right back away from him.
(Elders quorum meeting goes like this: Tate walks right over to the wall outlet and shoves his fat finger in there. I pick him up, walk him all the way to the other side of the room. He makes the long journey back to the outlet, I pick him up, and walk back to the other side of the room to start the cycle again.)
At this moment in time, he's my little buddy. Whenever he sees me, he almost leaps out of Traci's arms to grab onto me (a fact that the one who birthed him doesn't much appreciate). He tags along everywhere I go, either needing to be carried (that chubby guy tires you out pretty quick), or holding on to the back of my leg while I walk.
He likes Paige and Curtis quite a bit and they (mostly) like him back. Paige recently discovered that she's strong enough to pick him up, so to his chagrin, she lugs him around a bit. Curtis is cordial to him when Tate's not touching his stuff or moving in on his territory.
Traci likes him the best. She spends a good deal of the day telling him how cute his or reminding others of the same.
We like him. We'll keep him.
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