On Friday Charlie had his four-month pediatrician's visit. He is in the 25th percentile for height, weight, and head circumference according to his actual age, weighing in at 13 lbs. 13 oz.
He is now a baby of folds. I am storing my extra set of car keys between a few of his extra chins, and I can't find my voluminous file of medical-related receipts but I am fairly certain he's mischievously tucked it away within the fleshy pouch behind his left knee. If I can't pry it out I'll be sending the entire baby to the IRS, arriving at the post office with a squirming package marked, "HAND CANCEL PLEASE."
Charlie also had his routine immunizations. I know this is a controversial topic, the decision whether and when to vaccinate a kid. We are going the conventional route. I have wholly bought into the notion that a social contract applies.
I understand that many people feel differently, and have serious concerns about the safety of vaccinations. Not me, man. I like to live dangerously. In fact, I've requested that Charlie's shots be super-sized with an extra measure of mercury. I am hoping it will give him super powers.
Things I have dropped on Charlie's head while carrying him in the sling
- Potato chips. Crumbs removed with a greasy moistened fingertip, then deposited neatly into my mouth. (Fingers then wiped on sling, which is fortunately machine washable.)
- Caffeine-free Diet Pepsi. Licked away efficiently through catlike contortion of upper spine.
- Latest Pottery Barn Kids catalog. Required trip to emergency room to ascertain that Charlie had no concussion, and assurance that the resulting dent in his forehead will mend without issue. Impatiently awaiting next catalog to see whether they make a line of tastefully personalized infant-sized helmets.
My heartfelt thanks for the kind advice and support you all offered during last week's freakout. Things are better now. I think my hormones have righted themselves once more after the crash brought about by the end of pumping, and I think Charlie has improved noticeably. I also think I'm happier having ended my unhealthy relationship with the Lactina Select.
The other night I was sitting on the couch with Charlie snoozing prone across my bosom. "Hey," said Paul, "you can do that now."
And indeed I can. I can hold the baby close to my body without cringing or shying away.
Yes, things are better now.
Paul is distracting Charlie during the tempestuous half-hour before lunch.
Julie: He's really staring at you. I think he likes you.
Paul: Nah. He's just memorizing my face so he can pick me out of a police lineup later.