In the last couple of days Noah has walked a few steps here and a few steps there before dropping to his knees and going twenty miles per hour. He’s close. Ever so close. He doesn’t really like to “practice” from person to person or holding hands. He’s his own man. He’d rather take a chair from the table and plow it around the house. It’s the same with his “talking”. Rarely does he say something you are trying to get him to say. He’s says it on his own schedule, when it’s his own idea. Right now he’s upstairs screaming his blood curdling scream. His sleeping hasn’t been stellar lately, and he’s been a bit of a cling-on. But he sure is cute! And funny. I better go get him so the other three punks can fall asleep.