As we were waiting in the waiting room, a woman exited with her SIX children. Umm...precious, well-behaved children. They waited patiently as she paid and scheduled her next appointment and then followed her calmly to her car. I stared. I was too tired to even hide my staring. I was impressed by their order and calm. Let's just say my children like to make their presence known.
Our chunky monkey is really not that chunky. Only 23 pounds and change. So he still hasn't tripled his birth weight. He's actually only in the 40% for weight. Fine by me since I carry him around most of the day.
I was so discombobulated I didn't even have questions for the doctor. (Buck, I know you are flabbergasted reading this. Usually at well-baby visits I get "the look" from Buck to quit talking, quit asking questions, and wrap it up.) It was the quickest well-baby visit in Belle history.
But, it was long enough to have Small Fry all out of sorts. He hates to be messed with. Hates it. He was totally freaking out just getting measured. Then the poking and prodding just sent him over the edge. Little did he know he was about to get four shots.
My sweet, sensitive Fawn was so concerned that Small Fry had to get shots. He couldn't handle it. So, I asked for an extra nurse to sit outside the room with him during shot time. I wasn't embarrassed to ask -- and will do it again if the situation presents itself. As for the shots, all the nurse said was "this one's a fighter!" Small Fry fought her tooth and nail. I don't really even think he hurt. I think he was just plain mad. We've got our hands full with this one!
Before the craziness.
Sweet, 15-month old baby.
My munchkins and me.
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