Noodle has graduated to finger foods. Finally given access to cheerios, she scrabbled her fingers around on the tray, trying to pick one up. Finally, she gets one into her fist and crams it in her mouth, fingers flailing. Her hand departs and she looked at us bewildered. The cheerio is cheerfully stuck, perpendicular, on her lip.
She's become a little pro now, happily chasing cheerios and stars around her tray, muttering with effort, then cooing as they hit her mouth. Grandma Sherry pointed out that she hums as she eats, which, once you notice it, is quite amusing. Spoon it in, listen to the hum. Spoon it in, listen to the hum. You can tell when she needs another bite because she starts complaining, "Rah, rah, rah, RAH, RAH, RAH!" Spoon it in. "Hmmmm."
Sadly, the cheerio stage is seriously detrimental for my already weak housekeeping skills. There are cheerios everywhere. Since they stick to clothing (once licked at least), they can be carried like fleas into all corners of the house. Dried and stepped on, they result in tiny piles of cheerio sand. No one pile is that problematic, but the overall situation is out of hand, and unlikely to be addressed anytime soon.
On other fronts: Q relocated his wrench, left outside. Applying it to J's shop door, he declares, "I'm a good doer!"
And so he is. He's happily attempting to reassemble Excavator, taking pleasure in figuring out what part each metal shred once belonged to.