Thunder Thighs

Just got back from the doctor’s and at six months old Annie has begun to fulfill her fate of being a little meatball of a baby. During her checkup today we learned that Annie is now in the 75th percentile for weight and just the 50th percentile for height. If you will remember, for the first four months of her life, these stats were inversely proportioned. Like her mother before her (who had diaper rash in between all her fat rolls, not just her butt cheeks,) Annie is beginning to lean towards the plumper end of things. My sister tells me she looks and feels like a ham. Mmmm.

Annie also had two more shots today for her six month inoculations. She is getting better at dealing with them, and once you pop a bottle in her mouth she is fine. At this point it doesn’t faze me at all. This next baby will be lucky if I worry about him (I want a boy, so lets just use him from now on) if he falls down the stairs. I can’t imagine what it would be like if we had more children after that. I think that after three or four times around your kids must raise themselves. Who could possibly have the energy after all those years to worry about things like nap schedules and what they wear to leave the house? The last kids in large families are strangely clad galoots who could withstand a falling pot to the head with nary a whimper…yes that means you Bobby P dot.

Lastly, I’ll leave you with an update on my wife’s health. She feels better every day and last night even had rice and beans for dinner. What? The problem with this is that if we don’t have a boy she may try and rationalize trying again for my sake. That’s the thing with kids; you have a short memory regarding the difficulty and pain of it all. I barely remember letting Annie fall off the couch last month. Did I forget to include that story in my December update? Whoops.