Weight: 13 lbs 6 oz, 10th percentile
Head: 42 (no measurement noted, but I'm hoping this is not inches), 27th percentile
List of foods we are feeding him: prunes. You know it.
He is tall and scrawny, as above. But why do we measure these things? If someone, for example, is born in at the very high end of the weight range and works their way down to the 10th percentile in the first four months and we don't bat an eye then why are we even weighing him? Although my thinking is of the eh, he seems fine variety, it still seems a little odd.
I had this very thing happen to me when I mentioned that he had had diarrhea just exactly one incubation period after being given the live diarrhea vaccine and his doctor was like, no, that doesn't happen. It is perfectly plausible, in fact likely, that that is what happened. I don't see what the harm in placating me with a "maybe that's possible" would be.
He can hurl himself around in a way that Dylan was never interested in, had she even been able to with all the chub. I think he could probably sit up by himself, but being put in that position is an invitation to throw himself towards his delicious toes, so he never stays upright long. From there he can kick his feet out from under himself and seems to think he should be able to crawl away. He does look like he's about to push up on all fours at any second. At this age Dylan was occasionally rolling over, when the feeling struck her. This one has some serious muscle tone and would rather allow himself to be lifted up, elbows clenched, than unbend his arms for "so big." He is, by the way, so big.
I remember 5-6 months being pretty transformative with Dylan, and I think we're getting there. He's going down for naps a lot easier, he's handling his digestion (slightly) better, and he's awake and playful for a lot longer. Plus the screeching and yapping, that I do remember. You know how newborn babies seem a little wise and all-knowing? Slightly older babies who spend their days trying to shove both fists in their mouths, they do not seem so wise.
Dylan still seems happy to have him around. She likes to have company all the time, so one more person works for her. She pushes the stroller, picks out his bib, helps me feed him and change his diaper, she bounces his car seat when he fusses in the car and begs to have him in the bath with her. She walks and feeds her baby at the same time I do. She explains to him that "Mommy is singing to you" in a tone that indicates it would thus be reasonable to stop crying. He's very popular in her preschool class, and he loves to hang out in there and watch the kids.
She took this picture of him.
I think you can see why I call him Goober. Really. What a goober.
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