Felix is trying to figure out how things work, on both the physical and mental plane. He wants to know all the bones. He theorized this week that a thought is when air moves through your body and fills your stomach. He's great at labeling emotions: "When I hold a gun, it makes me feel important." He says the same thing about pretending to be Superman helping people.
Milo's exploding into full blown consciousness. It's rather breathtaking. He continues to radiate happiness from every pore, but now he actually does stuff. He claps in time to music, any music. He repeats short sequences of tones that you sing to him. He listens to birds and tries to imitate their different calls. When he does something he's proud of, he gives himself a little ovation. When he hears us congratulating Felix on something, he claps for Felix. And when you tickle him under the arms he laughs with the most charming abandon.
He laughed at his first joke: Lucie called him "mon chaton" (my kitten), a standard French term of endearment. He looked surprised, made the cat sign, pointed to himself, and started belly laughing.
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