A List of Soren Things I Don't Want to Forget

1. When he really wants something, he crows like a rooster. One of the things he always wants is someone else's food. It doesn't matter if he's just consumed a belly-stretching 5-course meal; if someone else is eating, he wants in on the action. Now.
2. He spends a lot of time smacking his gums together like a senile elderly living life sans dentures.
3. He clicks his tongue as though he were speaking an indigenous African language.
4. This morning, in the course of 2 minutes, he threw a pacifier in the toilet, unraveled the remainder of a roll of toilet paper, emptied a box of EmergenC packets, threw my glasses on the floor, and pulled a basket of toiletries off the bathroom counter, strewing its contents everywhere. All this was accomplished from the safety of his doorway jumper.
5. Speaking of "safe" places, Soren took a dive out of his high chair earlier this week, landing head-first on the hard kitchen floor. While I worry obsessively about possible brain damage that might result from this accident, his father merely chuckles to himself at the thought of Soren casually looking around, arms tucked against his sides, little body catapulting toward the floor.
6. He will go to ANYONE without crying. (But I think he likes me best.)
7. He alternatively practices speaking in a deep manly voice and a high squeaky voice.
8. At 11 months, he can turn on the stereo and change radio stations; he can climb a full flight of stairs without supervision (I thought he was playing in the closet!); he can say "Mama" and mean it; he can single-handedly set off the carbon monoxide detector.
9. While riding in the car, he will spend 20 minutes or more studiously examining, with furrowed brow, the novelette Good-Night, Baby, which is, according to him, a serious contribution to the cardboard literary canon.