On a hike with John, Kim, Amber, Koen, and myself, in the aspens up above Paonia. Moments after this photo was taken, we were assaulted by hordes of hungry ’skeeters. Koen’s cuteness was not enough to keep them at bay.

Koen has become decidedly more active this month. Here he demonstrates an athletic side roll. I’m so awed, witnessing Koen becoming more “embodied”, more aware, more responsive, more…more!

An early morning sun bathing. This is the last documented photo of Koen wearing this outfit - he’s now leaving a trail of petite outfits in his wake. Gone are the days of the infant onesies. Apparently, if we just keep adding milk and a bit of love, by 2009 he should be 18 feet 9 inches tall.

Big ugly papa feet and cute itsy Koen feet.

A bit o’ sweetness in the morning.

Mr. giddy himself. Every morning, Koen awakes bright and fresh. He giggles, kicks, flaps, frolics, smiles, laughs, gurgles, “coo”s, and has a pretty jolly time of it.

Caught unawares, a wee faerie boy, flittering about by the windows.

A pensive moment.

Koen Aurelius, photographed while taking a spin in his low-rider? Nope. Here he sits in the bathroom sink. For a couple of weeks, Amber and I were trying out the practice of taking Koen to the sink, undiapered, every time he was showing signs of impending poo-ing or pee-ing, where we would then imitate the sound of tropical waterfalls, or rub our bellies in a circular fashion while grunting — all part of a practice that’s apparently quite common in non-diaper countries, as a way of establishing two-way communication and trust. However, we have currently placed this practice on hold, as we were spending a large chunk of each day hanging out in the loo — which was, honestly, quite bonding and enjoyable, yet the amount of work we were able to accomplish plummeted dramatically. So onward we plow, seeking balance.

First attempts at crawling! Koen grunts, squeals, pushes, and contorts, driven on by the instinct to cover territory. When offered “tummy time”, he first raises his head like a turtle, and then seems compelled to propel himself forward. He typically doesn’t enjoy this for more than a moment or two, for he amps himself up with so much energy and frustration, that he soon ends up in a frenzied state of overstimulation (tears included).