Yum Yum (I call him this because that's kind of what his name sounds like when Soren pronounces it) still kind of thinks that he's two months old. At almost twelve months, Liam isn't crawling, scooting, or cruising. He clamps his little lips together at the sight of solid foods. And he hasn't even considered the possibility that he might be able to form words with that sweet little mouth of his. He still squeals and squeaks. This should probably concern me, and it does, a little, but I'm pretty sure he's not so much delayed as he is...content. And stubborn.
My little Liam.
He is a bundle of smiles and sweetness that can fill a person from top to bottom with the golden warmth of a sunny day and a dripping honeycomb. He is warm and squishy and smells like milk and baby lotion. He has sweet pillow cheeks and there is something about kissing his little head-- oh my goodness, his sweet fuzzy knobby little head!--that makes me want to bottle him up and keep him this little forever.