Normally Sarah writes these sort of updates, but I do like to reflect sentimentally every now and again.

Micah has developed so much in the last month or two; if I didn't pause to write this stuff down, I would forget, and it would fade into the deep dark chambers of forgetfulness and regret.

Two weeks ago, Micah hadn't figured out to crawl. He'd been verging on it for a while; he figured out how to spin around (generally anti-clockwise) on the spot, but you could count on him not moving anywhere. In two months, he's finally mobile. His boring old toys are just not interesting when he can explore the adult world, and all the various things his parents have left around the house. His current favourite thing is bee-lining my CDs and pulling them out systematically. In the TV room, he does the same for DVDs. The net effect is: we really need to babyproof our house.

It's been a fortnight of firsts for Micah. Apart from the crawling thing, he has been impressing all and sundry with his impressive technological skills by sending an SMS (entirely unaided) from my mobile phone (a HTC Touch, with a touch-screen) to Sarah. (the precise message: "a7oP 7x". No, I don't know what it means, and I doubt he does either.)

He's also developed an uncanny ability to whistle. He purses his lips and breathes in and out. While it's not a proper whistle yet, he's getting pretty close, which is pretty awesome, because Sarah reckons kids only learn to whistle around age 8.

It's pretty amazing to think how much he's changed; how many new things he's done in the last 8 months, and how much further he has to go. It's nice to look back and remember that I can hold him in my arms. That in the first week of his life, I was able to calm him down every time I held him. That when had trouble sleeping, I had a perfect formula: I would gently rock him to sleep, singing Rainbow Connection to him. That I used to "fly" him around the place and he would love it. The first time he grinned at me; and the times now where I can get him to grin, by hiding under the highchair, tickling his tummy, and eating his back.