Logan made his first trip to the Pediatrician for a wellness checkup on Thursday. This required a slightly confusing conversation between myself and the receptionist.
“Did you bring Logan’s shot records?” She asked.
“He doesn’t have any, unless the Doctor decides to give him on today.”
Slightly frustrated, she verged on the cusp of a condescending demand, “You don’t have the records from the hospital?”
“Home birth” was my succinct response to which I was rewarded with some surprised understanding, and a short “Oh, okay.”
That out of the way, the Doctor poked, rubbed, prodded, measured, and examined, in a very doctorly fashion. To the hand clapping delight of my A type over achiever wife, the Doc noted that Logan is displaying motor development skills and strength at a four month level.
Just yesterday he held onto a rattle for the first time. A task that we’ve been practicing for some time.
Cameron is convinced that he’ll be walking by the time he’s 9 months old. I reckon the super strength and flight won’t start to develop until he’s near puberty. Heat vision could come at any time, but will likely wait until an appropriately embarrassing teenage moment.
I can tell you that his weight is up to 10lbs 5oz. He’s a relatively small kid, but the curve on his growth is steady and encouraging. My mother tells me that I was a relatively small child as well. Somewhere along the line I figured out how to correct that, and I’m sure Logan will as well.
The next few weeks should be exciting. Not only do we have a full social calendar that is nearly guaranteed to bring about another cold, but it will be Logan’s first Christmas. This is an event that will require, by act of special congressional session, hundreds of photos and videos.
Bonus video: Logan smiling to himself as he sleeps. I can’t know what he’s dreaming of course, but I suspect it involves boobs. I’ve let him know that this is a common obsession with young children, nothing to be ashamed of, and chances are he’ll grow out of it in, say, 50 to 60 years.
