Brains over thighs

My first doctor didn't believe in percentiles. I liked him. Why? Because at this new place they tell me I'm in the 80th percentile for weight. Channeling Kim, not Kate. (Makes Mom happy. Me - not so sure.)

But I decided to listen to Grandma and just keep smiling. It's too early to have a weight complex, right?

Not to worry though. Right afterwards they told me I was in the 85th percentile for head size. Woo Hoo! Bigger brains than thighs is my motto.

After that, percentiles were over (yes - I am breezing over the fact that I'm short - 50th percentile for height). On to heart and lungs. They said I sounded congested.

Yep. Always. But don't bother me none.

What will six months bring? Only time will tell...

(P.S. Shots were a breeze this time!)

Thanks, St. Nick

Happy St. Nicholas Day, everybody!

My mom grew up celebrating this holiday, placing her shoes by the door on December 5 and waking to find her footwear filled with gifts. Or rather, a gift - usually something to keep her warm. Since I don't wear shoes, my gifts came in a box.

Straight from Lake Shore Drive. Who knew?! Maybe he winters there? Resting up for the big day?

Anyhow, inside was a bag special for me. Mom helped me open it.

Keeping with tradition, Grandma, errrrr, I mean St. Nick, made me this sassy hat to keep me warm.
St. Nick sure can felt some mean flowers!

I also got my first pair of leather choppers. Pic of those to come.

Mom found me irresistible. Puhlease - lay off the cheeks!

St. Nick's Ann Arbor connection hooked me up with a beautifully illustrated Night Before Christmas book.
I can't wait until Dad reads me the whole thing.

After my poor performance on Mom's birthday, Dad helped me work
something out with St. Nick to make up for it.

Nice, right? (And, someday they'll be mine.)

Ahhhh, the holidays.

They're great as long as they don't make me wear this damn hat ever again.

And to all a good night.

School photo phobia

Remember last week's post about my somewhat embarrassing school photos?
And my mom's black-comb-down-bang fear?
Well, Gram and Gramps Yooper sent this down to help explain the root of the problem.

Yikes.

(Really, Mom. I think a black comb was the least of your problems. Toothbrush? Yes. Black comb? No.)

123 days

November 28 was my four month birthday.

Can you believe I've gone from this?

(day three)

To this?

(day 124)

Mom and Dad sure can't!
The only thing that's changed for them? Darker under-eye circles and bigger smiles...

J and M

Did I tell you James and Mary visited last week? No?

Well, let me tell you, it was great.

The bumbo

Guess what?! I'm now strong enough to be a card-carrying Bumbo user.

Mom's so proud!