So far so good... the real estate gods have yet to smote (or whould that be "smite?) our 3rd deal. Inspection was a little depressing (looks like we'll need to replace the fabulous deck at some point in the next 5 years) but nothing deal-killingly major. We've asked them to fix one little bathroom vent and are proposing to take a few grand off the price to compensate for the needed deck & other repairs, and are once again anxiously awaiting word of approval.
Inspection on our house is this afternoon. We're hoping their inspector is nowhere near as picky/thorough as ours! Our buyers actually refused to go along with an earlier close date so it looks like we'll be moving *after* the New Year. Which takes a little stress off. But our sellers have yet to formally OK the change in closing date so I suppose that could go squirrelly,. too.
The Critter is getting cuter by the minute. He's about mastered the Gene Kelley carseat tipping manuever.... climbs in when it's on the floor, crawls to the other side until it tips and dumps him out on the carpet on the other side. Then repeat. He's like a little tank on all fours... will actually go OVER any obstacle even if it means going out of his way to do so. I am praying this tendency does not grow into a love of all things monstertruck or military.
He began planting big fat slobbery open mouthed kisses on everyone this weekend. While the dog was ecstatic to see her affection returned in kind, the kitties were much less thrilled. They've upped their baby evasion training regimen as aa result. The Critter has also begun whining in a much more pleasing tone of voice. The old Draconian shrieking was earning him quick trips to his crib... I think he is much more pleased with the delayed bedtimes, cuddles and hugs that he is earning now. He finally had a wonderful time at swim class last week, too. Thanks, we're sure to the club actually turning up the temperaure in the pool to a more baby-friendly level.
Oh, and *I GUESS* you could say he's started saying his first word. Not "Mama", no. Not for the 10 months of nausea, hemmorhoids and indigestion I endured to bring him into this world. Not for the roughly 3 hours of time I sit around with my tit in a wringer pumping out life-sustaining breastmilk every day. No. No "Mama" for me. Instead, one night last week when I brought him to bed in the wee hours of the morning and Curt as usual presented his back so he could go back to sleep.... the Critter sat back on his heels, slapped his shoulder and clear as a bell shouted "Da!". Followed by another "Da!". With that he turned his father into the biggest puddle of putty to be manipulated with the palm of his tiny little hand. Now it's "dada" whenever he's feeling neglected. And still - no word for the Mama. *sigh*