It was so different in the waiting room with a mobile baby little dude. A was all over the place, but not in a spastic way. Just in an, in the chair then walking around then looking at the fish then this chair no that chair and ooh do you think that kid wants to play and by play I mean smush our faces together? (That last part really happened. I quickly assured the parent that we were there for a checkup only and were not carrying any known plagues. She said the same but you can’t trust strangers these days.)
When we first arrived (probably should have led off with that, huh? I’m a little distracted right now. My apologies.) A insisted on sitting alone. I was just going to take a picture of him sitting there like a Real Boy, but I actually got lucky and captured the reason for his insisted independence.
You see, that’s my kid, doing his best to mack on a teenage blonde. Aim high, little guy. Aim high.
We finally got a room after forty exhausting minutes of waiting. You wouldn’t think it’s that hard, seeing as he still moves quite slowly, but it’s the gripping fear that he will Do Something at any moment that will expose you to the rest of the masses as an Unfit Parent that just sucks the life right out of you.
The appointment itself was uneventful. A is happy and healthy. Pedi says it’s time to ditch the bottle and I agree, but jeebus it’s going to be an epic battle (any tips? hints? cheat codes?) and I’m skeered.
As far as stats go, he’s holding steady at 50% on weight. He’s a little above that on height at between 50-75%. But the best part? That fat noggin is still clocking in at the 90th percentile.
Methinks we’ll be that kid with the special supersized helmet during football season.