It was funny because he's the size of a toddler--like, literally the size of a year-and-a-half-old walking child we encountered the other day--but distinctly baby in his lack of other development.
He must have taken the jokes to heart, because he decided to do something about it this week. Specifically, the very edge of his first tooth poked through yesterday, the same day he finally got up on his hands and knees and started rocking in that soon-to-be-crawling kind of way.
He is also starting to drink water from a cup and try very hard to pick up small pieces of bread and egg and so on from his tray. Although that last one mostly devolves into examining the small pieces closely before smashing them cruelly in his giant fists, a la Lennie in Of Mice and Men.
He's trying, though. He's growing, and progressing, and getting less baby every day.
I will savor the Beet Face as long as I can, because I will miss it when he's too old to decorate his face with pureed beets that look hilariously like smeared lipstick.
