Now, the doctor tells us our baby is perfect and I believe her because she's a doctor and I'm not but I have some doubts. Serious ones that dwell heavily upon my soul and mind. Not just doubts, but Doubts. You can hear the capital "D" when I pronounce it, and the "b" too for that matter.
|Lovingly titled "Derp."|
She's been around for six whole months though and still hasn't fully grasped this whole, well, grasping thing yet. She'll reach out for the thing she wants, get her little fingers around it, pull it toward her mouth and drop it. Then she cries because the mean toy obviously jumped out of her hand and ran for freedom instead of being inserted into her mouth so she could get to know it better. She doesn't yet understand that she needs to hold onto things to get them all the way into her mouth. Shouldn't she have gotten that by like, three weeks old? Come on, kiddo, you're lagging behind!
|Keep stretching, kiddo! Grow taller!|
And the doctor said that Lois is doing well for her length*, weight, and overall physical development but who says? I'm looking at this little short thing and I am certain she will never play in the NBA, ensuring her mom and I a well-taken-care-of old age with her NBA salary**.
Also, according to her doctor whom, although I love her as our doctor, is starting to make me wonder where she got our degree, our daughter has only put on a couple of pounds since the last check-up. I cry foul on this! I have lifted that child every single day of her life for some amount of time or another, except maybe the couple of days I was laid up in the hospital with appendicitis. I am certain that in the last two months this little monster has put on at least 15, maybe 20 pounds. Without a doubt, I am sure of it and I think their scale must be broken. I should let them know.
|See what the shirt says? It's true.|
Of course, if this is my biggest complaint about our baby who has a happy disposition, sleeps through the night almost every night without trouble, eats regularly, and rarely fusses except when she needs to be changed or is hungry?
I'm the luckiest daddy in the whole wide world.
Now we just have to work on that whole "Dada" thing. Then my job is over. Right? That's how that works?
If you'd like to see Mom's take on the whole thing, with cuteness and sweet words, go read "Growing! She's GROWING!" which is hosted by Mom's new blog, "I'm Drawing A Blank Here."
*Apparently they call it "length" before the child can stand instead of "height," which I find weird. If I suddenly lose the use of my legs will they measure my length instead of my height? I don't ever want to find out.
**Look, my daughter has about as much chance of getting into the NBA as your son does, which is to say almost zero, so stop trying to crush my dreams here!