Chalk and Cheese

As in, when a British friend of mine saw Owen she said, "Wow! Your kids are chalk and cheese." (Translation: They couldn't be more different.)

Owen is eight months old today. He's officially speed-crawling. If there's some overlooked crumb, choking hazard or Margot toy, he's on it in a flash. He stalks Margot, chasing her around, trying to play with her. Occasionally, she obliges. Mostly she bellows. Fortunately, she's at nursery for three hours every morning so I let Owen play with her stuff then. I'm fully aware that will cause me trouble later.

When Margot does acknowledge his existence, Owen beams. He flashes his four teeth and giggles uncontrollably. It's just hysterical when they both get the sillies.

We think Owen is approaching 22 pounds and Margot is nearly 26 pounds. We might need to start a pool to see when he overtakes her. They've started wrestling. Margot sits on him, and I panic. "Be careful. He's just a baby." Owen just cracks up and gives her the straight-arm. He's not exactly delicate.

We're just entering the clingy, Mommy stage. When I leave the room, he freaks out. As he's generally pretty social, I'm hoping this phase will pass quickly.

Here are a few slice of life photos.