  It's been a REALLY busy couple of weeks, with grandparents visiting, trips to the beach with grandparents, etc., etc. Shmoopy thought the firm sand at the beach was just excellent for bouncing on, in the absence of his bouncy exersaucer. He liked when the waves came over his toes. He didn't like so much when they splashed up around his thighs. Ella, on the other hand, wanted to simultaneously not let go, go in and get splashed, not get water in her eyes, and go far, far out, where the other people were swimming.
I kept trying to discuss with her the mutual exclusivity of these events, but I'm not sure I was getting through. Both kids were fussed over and adored, although it was interesting to watch Ella discover that just as you can have 300 hundred channels and still find nothing worth watching, you can have your choice of 6 adults and still, sometimes, no one wants to play with you. Shmoopy learned to sit up better, and also to roll over on his back whenever he wants ... which made me ecstatic, because for the last month or so he has been able to roll over on his tummy whenever he wants ... and then complain loudly a few minutes later that he was stuck there, and would you come help him out please.
His non-verbal communication skills have also made a big jump -- he looks directly at things he wants, he inclines his chin towards them, if you're holding him he frequently inclines his substantial body mass towards them (sometimes with unanticipated results on his part if you didn't happen to be holding tightly enough), and of course, he reaches for them. It is hard to describe the subtle differences of Shmoopy-tude that these accomplishments have brought about ... perhaps they might be viewed as more self-confidence, or more willingness to request involvement on his terms instead of watching other people or performing what others have decided is the activity of the moment. "NOW is when I want to eat," he says, "and I want yogurt and not a bottle," or "THAT is the toy that I want to to play with". And since he no longer needs to use his allotment of vocalizations to complain that he is stuck on his stomach, he feels free to give emphatic vocal accompaniment to all his requests. When we picked him up the other day, the folks at daycare reported that he had been roaring all day long.
"The toddler teachers kept sticking their head in the door to see what all the flap was about," they said. "And we kept saying: 'Oh, Shmoopy found his voicebox, he's just letting us know what he wants. '" And we nodded and smiled.
Then at dinnertime, I went over to help him as he was fussing over his cup. I picked up one hand and curled his fingers around the cup so he had a good grip on it, and as I went for the other hand my mellow, easygoing child looked at me, pulled the cup back, crinkled his nose, leaned his face forward towards me and said "RRRRRRROGGGGGGGGH!". "OK," I said, backing away with my hands in the air, "OK, I get it, you can do it yourself. " Who says that just because they're only 7 months old they can't make themselves perfectly clear? 
