Such are the immortal words of Mo Rocca, and such is Wesley’s forehead. He’s starting to accumulate a collection of bruises on his forehead from all his bonks. Today alone he bonked his head twice–once at home against the coffee table and once at Tucanos (a Brazilian restaurant) on the table edge. He had a hard time recovering from that last one because right after he stopped crying over his traumatic head injury the Brazilian singers trounced in with their drums and loud voices to sing happy birthday to three tables of people. And Wes wasn’t much a fan of the noise. He didn’t cry again, but his lower lip kept pouting out like he was certainly thinking about it. So John took him out to let him recover a bit more.

Also, we have a potential jailbird on our hands now. Wes learned how to pull himself to standing in his crib. Sometimes we’ll sit him in his crib to play, leave for a minute, and come back when we hear a loud thumping noise to find him standing up and hitting the wall with his hand. Mostly I think he pulls himself to standing to get a better grip on the crib with his mouth so he can chew on it.

Lastly, and I know this is heathenish to include in a post essentially about Wes, but I am so darn proud of my newly reorganized pantry. Just look:

I should have taken a “before” picture because it would have made you pass out from horror. Imagine the shelves of your local grocery store after an earthquake, except with the boxes and cans intact on the shelf but at odd angles and in no particular order. Also with expired freshness dates. And a few weevils wandering around.

I am a fan of these under-counter baskets that I use to store my plastic wrap and storage bags.

I feel so empowered by my new pantry. Last night I went grocery shopping and instead of standing in an aisle staring at an item and wondering, “Do I have any of this at home?”, I could clearly picture the organized shelves and know for sure. Few things give as good a high as getting organized.