A Different Species

For the last couple of months I've been calling Milo a rabid puppy. While I consider this to be a term of endearment, it's probably not the nicest thing a mom has ever called her son. I call him this because when he gets excited and also happens to be congested he really does sound like a large puppy with foam coming out of the mouth. It's funny, heartbreaking and adorable all at once. Actually now that I think about it, we've had much fewer rabid puppy incidents since we have the at-home nebulizer for coughing or wheezing flare-ups. Huh.

Anyway, our little guy has been showing other puppy-like qualities lately. He is obsessed with his Robeez and not for the fashion of them. I have to hide these little leather shoes from him or he gnaws on them until they are slobbery mess. He's even been put down for a nap with a shoe in hand because he wouldn't let go of it.

Today I looked down to find Milo chewing on the leg of a wooden kitchen chair. Chewing. On the chair.

He also needs to be walked at least once a day or we all go a little nuts.

I'm starting to think my baby boy is at least part puppy.