He is getting stronger by the day, holding himself up in a variety of yoga poses, but taking rests occasionally by putting his face flat on the ground. We're getting there, though. He is growing long and lanky (as lanky as you can be with rolls), no longer the hugest, chubbiest newborn I'd ever seen. He doesn't fit in his little tub anymore, so we've moved on to baths straight in the sink. His eyes seem to be changing, ever so slowly, to maybe a brown or even a green. His hair is growing in a sweet strawberry blonde (bud don't worry; his bright red mullet lives on).
Finnegan has taken to solids over the past week or two. After a long stretch of nights in which he wouldn't stop nursing, we figured he could use the extra calories. Turns out they aren't helping him sleep much better, but he seems to enjoy the experiment that is putting food in your mouth and figuring out how swallowing works.
He talks and talks (and talks and talks). He seems to try out new sounds every day. I'm still on my campaign to help his first words me "mamamamamama", but no sign of that quite yet. He doesn't seem to recognize his name yet, but I've made it my mission to use it all the time so that hopefully that comes around. He is most talkative first thing in the morning, and so expressive too; serious faces and lots of shouting. I imagine that he is telling me about the very compelling dream he had the night before.