Being Rowan's mama is different than being Lucy's mama. I'll allow you a moment to recover from that shocker.
Rowan isn't a thumb sucker or a soother baby - he relies on me for that sort of thing. He's extremely mama-centric and I'm basically a sine graph in my response. Sometimes it's my favourite thing, and then ten minutes later I just need no more touching NO MORE.
Rowan believes to his very soul that his loving, wonderful mama is trying to murder him with fire whenever I try to change his diaper. There is absolutely nothing that helps. When Sam isn't here to hold him down, I have to try to do up a diaper on a hysterical crawling flailing baby. This is where cloth diapers are awesome - I know exactly which snaps are the right ones, so his diapers are at least on properly. Most of the time.
Rowan is very easygoing until he is not. There are so many examples. The diaper thing. When it comes to getting around, he crawls slowly, like an amble-crawl. When he sees something he wants (like Lucy's hair, or Osiris's tail) he books it. Also, if, like yesterday, I run to the laundry room and leave him at his toy shelf, I can come back and NOT FIND HIM ANYWHERE. (He had boogied his little bum into Lucy's room and I honestly couldn't see him for a few minutes.) He can also be perfectly fine playing, but then I pick him up and suddenly he is STARVING OH MY GOODNESS I HAVEN'T EATEN IN YEARS.
Rowan likes to be around people. If he's in a room full of people, he will keep leaning towards the next person in line until he has tried to take off everyone's glasses, earrings, beards, and bangs. And NECKLACES. Whoa. If he's passed to a bald unaccessorized person with 20/20 vision (or contacts), he'll just pick their nose for them.
Rowan can stand up on anything. Moving targets. The wall. Cats. My pants. He lets go sometimes. He may be taking steps properly by Christmas.
Rowan lets you know when he is all done with life by giving the biggest Lip of Sadness you ever did see. It quivers. It's accompanied by a wrinkled-up nose, and possibly one flapping hand. It broadens into a cry, then reverses course to a completely scrunched up face. Then he starts sounding like a tractor, or possibly a doorbell. He'll also launch himself at whatever he wants.
Rowan has no fear of anything. But that's a baby thing. I worry, however, that it isn't going to change. He doesn't strike me as the cautious type.
Rowan has the biggest smile ever, and he saves the best ones for me.