Truman is just a scoocher. He motors around with his little caterpillar action, in pursuit of whatever toy is always just out of his reach - a little ducky, perhaps, or (much better) one of his brothers' toys. The Thomas carrying case is particularly attractive, but the diecast Thomas trains are also drool-worthy.
It always boggles my mind. Here he is, barely five months old... and I can leave the room for a few minutes, or lose myself in my blog post, and all of the sudden, he's three feet away. Sure, he's not going to set any land-speed records, but - hey, he's faster than an actual caterpillar.
He's all about turning over, now, and his favorite thing to turn over toward is the white plastic wipes box. He reaches his arms out as if after Juliet in her moonlit tower, then, phwomp! he's turned his baby linebacker body over, he's grabbing the wipes box with gusto.
It's getting harder, in fact, to change his diaper - because I have to keep turning him to his back again, four or five times per change. Good thing he loves his diaper changes or we'd have quite a fight on our hands.