Graduating from the playmat

There was a time when my parents could put me down in one spot and expect me to be there when they came back from whatever they were doing. Not so much anymore. I have figured out how to roll over pretty efficiently, and mysteriously move around. Mind you, neither Mama nor Papa have seen me move translationally, but they know it happens. In the morning I am always near the bottom of the crib, happy as can be, but clearly not where I was originally planted. I'll never give up my secret. In this picture, I have already rolled over, and arched my back so that I could catch the blue and zebra-striped fish-like mammal (the big one has a blowhole) and yank on it with all my might.

The playmat's days are numbered. It has no such containment apparatus, so I could sneak off to elsewhere. I am getting to the point where the toys come off the hooks too, it is a small victory when they come down off their suspension. Too bad, I used to spend so much time here, listening to music and swatting the bird/insect menagerie. Mama has added a bunch of new toys that were not originally included (like the zebra-striped fishy thing and plastic keychain) to extend the playmat's lifetime, but those are small band-aids on a larger, more fundamental problem - I am Zeke on the move.