What do babies, Donald Trump and pterodactyls have in common?

Sooooooooo, it's been a while, eh?

I went and did something CRAZY.

I totally had a baby.

WOAH.

Having my son has been an incredible experience, but rather than bore you with 5 million details of his gory entry into the world like oh-so-many blogs do or inundate you with enough

omgilovehimsosososomuchheisthecutestwiddlebabyinthewhooooleworld

to induce diabetes in a 19-year old vegetarian Olympic soccer player like FAR too many blogs do, I think I'll pretty much just skip the whole intro bit. Here's what you missed:

Had son:

Is now 10 months old. (yea, I suck at blogging THATMUCH)

Has exactly one half of a tooth.

Has hairstyle that would make Donald Trump's toupee extraordinarily jealous.

Laughs at dogs.

(when they're doing absolutely nothing other than lying on the ground)

Loves sweet potatoes and smiling,

Face-plants into things as soon as mom stops looking,

Makes pterodactyl noises,

Scrapes dog fur out of the carpet and eats it,

Digs cheerios out from under his butt and eats them,

Grabs ahold of large chunks of mom's hair and eats it,

(are we catching a theme here?)

Enjoys crawling while trying to hold two toys at once, resulting in aforementioned face plants.

Does baby kinesthetics by flapping arms about wildly like a cracked-out penguin trying to fly.

Thinks everything is a "de-daaa."

Is pretty cute.

Yes, I'm biased.

So, I guess I'm now one of those mommy-bloggers. Eek. I promise I won't write about poop.

(maybe)

holy crap, that's a chunky face!

(Not me. The baby, you jerks.)