Two steps forward, one step back

About a week ago, Liam started letting go of whatever he was holding himself up with for a few seconds at a time. He would pull up on the coffee table, make sure we were watching, and then throw his hands up in the air for a split second. I guess he enjoyed all the cheering and applause he got, because now, one week later, he can stand on his own for a good thirty seconds at a time; and I have a feeling he could go longer if his inclination to take off after something he shouldn't be touching weren't so darn strong.

Tonight he had one of his episodes where he got so completely overtired that he went berserk, appearing as if he had just downed ten espressos in quick succession. It's at times like these that he is most likely to try something new and we weren't disappointed tonight: he let go of the dumptruck that was holding him up and took two clumsy steps toward me before crashing into a pile of books on the floor. Chad and I were both there to see it, and while part of me is overjoyed and relieved (tick that milestone off the doctor's list), part of me wants to cry and trade him in for a newer model. As luck would have it, tomorrow I get the pleasure of going to see my brand spanking new nephew for the first time, which will only reaffirm every fibre of my being telling me that he is growing up too fast. It doesn't help that Chad gives him these weird after-bath old-man combover hairdos...

(What is up with the recent succession of photos in which Liam looks miserable??)