The trip to the beach has finally been chronicled on Hardly Born. Reid's first run at the Gulf of Mexico had highs and lows -- he didn't actually go near the water much, and he did eat some sand -- but on the whole a great time was had by all.

The photos in the essay above don't include many shots of Reid's grandma, who was behind the camera for many of the best pictures. Through the miracle of digital photography, we were able to share our enormous stash of Reid photography and come up with a dozen and a half great shots for your viewing pleasure. But it wouldn't have been possible without many of the images captured by Grammie.

With the addition of this batch of pictures, I've had to eliminate the "big versions" of the pictures from "Days 4, 5, 6" photo essay. You can still see the small pictures, but the big versions don't load when you click on them. This is the only way we here at Hardly Born can continue to deliver high quality pictures of young master Reid.

Incidentally, Reid's completely graduated from baby to toddler. The gathering storm clouds of his life as a upright walking human have rained down on us. Tonight, Reid fell asleep soundly after walking himself to the point of exhaustion. The best thing about the walking we've noticed is that he has the most incredible expression on his face when he does it. I guess if you had only been walking for a week or so, you would look this excited about every step. The other thing he does is put both hands out in front of him like Frankenstein's monster. Of course, they don't break any of his falls, but he looks hysterical with this big grin and hands like a zombie. I'll try to get a picture.

This morning, Reid leaned over and gave K a real kiss on the lips. It was beautiful. He is so cute, and growing up so fast, it's frightening.

The gathering storm of Reid's walking has almost begun raining down on us. Generally, K and I engage in a session of "walk to mommy/daddy" at least once nightly. That, combined with Reid's exercises on the Stride-to-Ride (which relentlessly plays a cheesy Japanese techno-sounding version of John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt) have brought us from the five step short bursts of Reid-walking to sustained, remarkably wobbly, and endearingly exciting Reid jaunts across the floor. He is positively giddy, grinning so big that his eyes nearly close. We are similarly happy, though we're a little frightened, too.

Hopefully, I'll have the beach pics and some walking-action shots for everybody soon.

As Reid will tell you, we've had a busy couple of weeks. We've just returned from a vacation, where Reid got his first taste of beach life. Though he wouldn't really get in the water, he did a lot of walk-practicing on the beach, and there will surely be an entire edition of Reid pictures on the beach, possibly even featuring photos of his mom and dad (though we're more shy than he is about internet photography, that's for sure).

June has really shot by. Reid's tooth situation has become even more chaotic. His eight front teeth (which afford him the opportunity to shoot you a killer smile) have been joined, ominously, by a pair of pre-molars, further back on the top of his mouth. This pair is huge compared to the cute little mini-chicklets he's got going on upfront. More ominous is a recently-developed trend toward biting people.

It's frightening, because it used to be kind of cute. You know, you project a lot as a parent. A child throwing himself toward the ground so he can ingest a piece of dirt that has caught his fancy is interpreted as him hugging you, because you're desperate. You give a lot as a parent, and these little leaps of love are a bargain you make with yourself. Reid has of late been strangely "kissing" us, wherein he juts out his face, chin-first, with his mouth open in an "o" shape. Then he bumps into you with the open mouth, and you interpret that as a kiss. We kiss him a lot (normally, not weird o-mouth kisses), so maybe he's learning that behavior, which would be sweet.

However, now he bites us. This is not sweet.

This brings up the thorny question of discipline. We have been trying to use some discipline, although we do see it as a bit of a balancing act, because he certainly doesn't understand words, and he won't technically remember anything that happens in the world around him a year, or a month, or a week from now, probably. But as a parent, you want to do your best to prey on his animal instincts of negative reinforcement (we tell ourselves), so we do some disciplining. When he bites, he gets a "no." When he throws his sippy cup or other foods on the floor he gets a "no." Often these are stern. Sometimes, he responds by not repeating the action that elicited the "no." This is a success. Sometimes, if you give him a "no" before he completes the infraction, he will smile and pretend he wasn't planning to toss his sippy to the floor to enjoy its spectacular racket. This is a success.

Sometimes he will break down in tears, which is gut-wrenching, and is no doubt an effectively display of the glorious manipulation that all children for generations have been using against their parents since time immemorial. This is viewed as a failure, because if he could speak at this moment, he could ask me for a thousand dollars and the car keys and I would give it all to him if he would stop crying.

Most of the time, nothing much happens after you give him a "no." This is viewed as a failure, and also as reality.

The beach time was wonderful because the built-in babysitting team of Grannie and Grampa H were a great gift to these new parents. However, I doubt very much that our long-term goals of food and sleep discipline will be much served by our vacation. Parental laziness associated with vacation relaxation combined with the understandable grandparently urge to spoil, coddle and cater to the whim of all grandchildren all figure in.

However, with only two days back, Reid has resumed sleeping somewhat normally (the vacation featured a time change and a high rate of sugar intake from all the delicious beach-foods Reid snacked on, like watermelon and goldfish crackers) and his versatility comes as a pleasant surprise. Also surprising was the jarring return to the two-parent reality (versus the two+two-grandparent reality). While life at the beach house featured sun, sand and all sorts of flexibility with child care (the zone defense, versus man to man), spending this past weekend back home with just us and Reid was exhausting.

I never like to leave Reid at daycare; it tugs grievously at my heart to step through that door and head to work every time I do it. But today, I have to admit, I did think for a moment about the "normal" routine we've settled into, with readying Reid in the mornings and playing with him in the evenings, and I was glad to get back to the routine.

Look for more beach photos soon.