I was going to open this post in a way that assumed a tradition of sharing stories about Halloween on the 1st of November, then I realized I didn't write a Halloween post last year. Boooo! Bad blogger! (Actually, I did write a post about it, but was mostly about hurricanes, sandwiches and their mutual conspiracy to cause me harm.)
In any case, yesterday was Halloween, and I have some thoughts about it.
Halloween isn't Halloween unless I have pasted my children into a silly picture
As I have done every year, I present to you the annual Griffattolo photoshop.
"But wait," you may be thinking, "shouldn't you have put the kids in the same picture?" I like the way you think, imaginary reader in my head.
I may have gone overboard, but I have two kids now, so that sort of thing is necessary.
Finding the right costume
Hollie and I have one shared goal when it comes to Halloween costumes. It's a goal we didn't know we had when LG was a baby, but having just completed her fourth All Hallow's Eve, I think it's fair to say we've found something that works, and we're sticking with it as long as LG allows it.
A child's Halloween costume should be a giant puffy sack. It's a simple philosophy, but one that has taken hold in our lives.
I don't know how many more years we can keep this up, but dang it, I'm going to keep on trying. The fact that every other girl in her preschool class was some kind of fairy/princess/fairy princess does not give me hope, but the fact that SHE chose to be Cookie Monster does.
It takes two
I don't remember if my brothers and I ever had group costumes. I don't think we did. And it's possible that we won't be able to get LG and G2 to agree to it year after year. But we like the idea, so options for next year include spider and fly (sack with legs and sack with wings!) or Hershey's Kiss and M&M (silver sack and yellow sack with letter!)
Mama here. I feel bad that so many of our posts are LG-centric. In our defense, she's slightly more dynamic than G2 at this point. And, there may have been some lingering resentment over the fact that G2 was mainly responsible for a two month period of very little sleep. This post is about my little guy and the amazing way he has of lighting up a room with a goofy grin. Plus, he's finally back to sleeping through the night so his smile seems considerably less smarmy.
He started really smiling in May. It was charming. It was magical. It was worrying. He smiled mainly at inanimate objects. Stationary inanimate objects. He specifically loved smiling at the wall near his changing table and the windows. I was positive something was wrong. You'd think after having raised his sister that I would not fall prey to these types of worries. Wrong. I was sure his head was horribly lopsided and that he couldn't turn his head to the right. It wasn't, and he could. Two days before a doctor's appointment where I was going to lay out my fear that there was something developmentally wrong with him that he would not smile at the woman who carried him for 9 long months (and nursed him all day and night and lovingly swaddled and rocked him), he simply focused on me and smiled. He hasn't stopped since.
His smile has not been elusive. He doesn't save it for special occasions or even just for a few elite people. It's not tight-lipped or coy. He smiles for the camera like a baby model in the JC Penney catalog. (That's still a thing, right?) If he has his pacifier in his mouth, he'll smile so widely that it falls right out. He giggles to be sure, but most times it's the smile that gets me. It is the huge, goofy, charming, (almost) toothless* grin of a happy little boy.
*He has two little tooth buds. Hooray!
He smiles when he sees his big sister bounce into the room.
He smiles at strangers when he's bopping along in the infant carrier strapped to my chest.
He smiles when a spoon carrying delicious oatmeal and plums gets close to his mouth. Every. Single. Time.
He smiles when you blow raspberries on his belly.
He smiles when you even just threaten to blow raspberries on his belly.
He smiles when he has good and tight hold on your hair. (That one may be a little less charming.)
He smiles when he sees himself in a mirror.
He smiles when he makes a good, loud, piercing screech for no discernable reason.
He smiles when he kicks his feet so hard that his bouncy seat nearly rockets him into the air.
He smiles when Lola's tail smacks him in the face.
He smiles when he sees any of his grandparents, aunts, uncles, or cousins.
He smiles when he kicks his feet in the bath and causes a baby tidal wave.
He smiles when he finally gets the elusive toy on his baby rocket ship into his mouth.
He smiles after he gives you a lamprey-kiss on the cheek.
He smiles when you give him a lamprey-kiss on the cheek.
He smiles when you tickle his nose with a tissue.
He smiles when you smile.
He smiles when you unbuckle his car seat.
He smiles when he topples over on the futon.
He smiles when he gnaws on a washcloth.
He smiles when you go to pick him up in the morning.
He smiles when his daddy airplanes him around the house and when his mama sits him on her shoulder.
He smiles when we are reunited after any length of time- a workday, a nap or a trip to the bathroom.
And when he smiles, I cannot help but smile too.
He started off slow but then really hit his stride.
I dare you to look at these pictures and not smile.
Three years. That's how long I've been a father; it's how long I've had a daughter. Now that I have two kids, I spend a lot less time dwelling on that pair of facts. It's just a fact of my life. As clichéd as it is to say, and I'm certain I've said it before, everything changed on September 12, 2010. Life is harder now--some days remarkably so--but certainly more interesting.
In what has become a tradition around these parts (it's officially a tradition after three years, right?), I celebrate LG's birthday by looking back on the last 12 months to see how she's changed. The physical differences are less pronounced than in years past, but the mental, verbal (and good gravy, behavioral) differences are vast.
As with the lasttwo years, each of these photos was taken on or near the 12th of each month.
For reference, this is more or less where we left off.
September 2012
At two years old, and even now, she's not a super adventurous eater. She wouldn't eat a tomato if her left depended on it, let alone a green one. But if presented with green eggs and ham, I believe she'd scarf them in a heartbeat.
October 2012
One of her many pensive pictures. At 25 months, as ever, the smile is a difficult thing to capture. It's not that she doesn't grin; she does so frequently. It's just extraordinarily hard to get it on camera. It's just as well, since this look suits her.
November 2012
I have no recollection what came in this box. But man, did 26-month-old LG have a flippin' field day with it. Boxes: perfect for hide-and-seek, or shipping your kids to Abu Dhabi.
December 2012
At 27 months, LG ate waffles nearly every morning. The habit was so entrenched that at one point, I had to buy two boxes of waffles each week. The problem was that she eventually stopped eating waffles altogether, but I was so used to buying them in large quantities that we ended up with a large stockpile.
January 2013
What is she doing here at 28 months? I have no idea. Science, I guess? That's Hollie's story, and she's sticking to it. Personally, I think they like to see how much permanent damage they can do to my cookware. (Spoiler: It was Pyrex, and it's fine.)
February 2013
I cannot believe it took 29 months for us to get enough snow for her to actually ride a sled we bought when she was six months old. AND we had to travel 50 miles north to do it, since on this same day, we got maybe 3 inches of the white stuff. See her in action here.
March 2013
It's a maxim as old as statuary itself. If a toddler can climb on a statue, she will ride said statue. It was true at 30 months, and it's true today.
April 2013
Two things LG learned how to do this year: blow bubbles (for real, without simply covering her face in soap) and hang from things. It's hard to tell in this picture at 31 months, but she is hanging under own power an inch or two off the ground. These days if she had a little more dexterity and agility, she could swing on the monkey bars without a problem. As it stands, she can hang there for at least a minute or two.
May 2013
Speaking of covering her face in soap, it's hilarious to me that she had no problem doing this to herself at 32 months, but if she gets even a drop of water in her eyes at bath time, it's GAME OVER.
June 2013
She does clean up nice, though. This is from a backyard photo shoot that Hollie orchestrated as part of my Fathers Day present. LG was 33 months, and G2 was just under 3 months. You can see the top of his head in this picture, but this post isn't about him. Sorry, G2. You'll get yours next March.
July 2013
I'll be honest. I have no idea what's happening here at 34 months. I'm gonna guess she was eating watermelon in the rain. Let's go with that.
August 2013
I love this picture. If memory serves (and Hollie will correct me if I'm wrong), at 35 months this was LG's fourth time at Bug Fest at the Academy of Natural Sciences. The only thing that would make this picture better is if the butterfly had landed on her nose.
September 2011, 2012, 2013
As is our custom, we went to the beach the week after Labor Day this year. The timing was such that it was the first time LG didn't celebrate her actual birthday at the beach, but man-oh-man, did she tear it up on the days we were there. Rides; ice cream; games; and the ocean: she took full advantage of each and every one. Seriously, have you seen this video? And check it out; I think it's the first time her bathing suit actually fit.
But for an honest-to-blog picture of a three year old, we had to wait until yesterday.
As noted
previously, Hollie and I share a lot of stories about the kids on Facebook
that never make it to the blog. These are short, punchy and often very strange.
And some the vast majority have pictures!
Because I am a lazy blogger, and so that we can have a record of them, here are more
of those, from the end of January through May.
1/30/13 - Matt's Facebook
Yeah, she does look cute. *grumble* Princesses *grumble*
2/1/13 - Matt's Facebook
Due to her burgeoning love of Mario Van Peebles' early work,
LG has named her newest stuffed animal Blue Jack Kitty.
(Only half of this is true.)
2/7/13 - Matt's Facebook
This morning at breakfast, after Louis Armstrong's rendition
of Bippity Boppity Boo popped up on a shuffled Disney mix, LG looked up from
her waffle and said, "Daddy, that was a pretty good song."
2/11/13 - Matt's Facebook
LG's first time sledding in the snow. I have to say snow,
because in the absence of the white stuff, I have dragged her through piles of
leaves.
(Apologies for the vertical video. I hate myself a little.)
2/16/13 – Matt’s Facebook
Me: we need to make dinner for mama. What should we make?
LG: something delicious.
Matt: that's a given, but what food is delicious?
LG: hmmm... Fish, pickles, broccoli, apples, French toast, chips...
2/28/13 – Matt’s Facebook
LG, flipping through a DVD portfolio: Daddy, what's this
movie?
Me: That's 'Challenge of the Superfriends.' It has Superman in it.
LG: I like Superman. He's pretty cool. And he's cute.
Me: You think Superman is cute?
LG: Yessiree!
3/5/13 - Hollie's Facebook
Our Tuesday night ride home with LG:
LG: Daddy, do you want some of my snack?
Mama: Honey, daddy lost his voice so he can't talk. He
doesn't want a bite of your snack. Thank you, though.
LG: Daddy? (pause) Daddy?
Mama: Sweetie, daddy can't talk. Just tell him what you want
and Mama will let you know what he says.
LG: Daddy? DADDY?!?!
Mama: He can still hear you. Don't shout. Just talk to him.
LG: DADDY CAN YOU ANSWER ME?!?!
Mama: No. He cannot. Just talk, he can hear you.
LG: DADDY?!?! DADDY?!?!
Mama: He can hear you; he just can't talk because his throat
hurts.
LG: DADDY CAN YOU TALK TO ME?
Repeat for 20 minutes.
3/6/13 – Matt’s Facebook
I mentioned in this blog post that I have to rearrange the kids' room to get the crib and toddler bed
properly situated. Evidently LG is already working on it.
3/10/13 – Matt’s Facebook
How to Eat Frozen Yogurt: A Visual Guide
3/27/13 – Matt’s Facebook
Dear G2,
Your due date is tomorrow. Please come soon. Your sister is getting weird.
Love,
Dad
3/30/13 – Matt’s Facebook
It's déjà vu all over again. Or Hollie's body has figured
out how to clone our DNA and alter a chromosome.
4/4/13 – Matt’s Facebook
This is what we in the parenting game call
"success."
4/6/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
It's hard to sleep 23 hours a day with a noisy big sister in
the house. He makes it happen.
4/7/13 – Matt’s Facebook
Keeping it classy at the Griffattolo household.
4/9/13 – Matt’s Facebook
By the power of trowel, I! Have! The Power!
4/14/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
I can't shake the feeling that they are plotting against us.
4/21/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
All the cool kids are wearing skeleton PJs this season.
4/24/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
LG: G2* is saying (shouting) "I want toys!"
Mama: So he likes all the things you like?
LG: He likes rattles, milk, trees and bushes. All the things other babies like.
*she actually calls him by a super sweet nickname...
5/3/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
My daughter petitioned her preschool teachers for Show and
Tell Fridays, and now it's a thing. With great power comes great responsibility.
5/7/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
So, my baby sounds like the popping noise that announces a
flame spurt in the fire swamp.
5/7/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
Bob Ross would be so proud of her happy little clouds.
5/8/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
Mama, infant and toddler caught in the rain.
Only one of us was happy about it.
5/11/13 – Matt’s Facebook
LG: "Dad, you be Superman. I'll be Wolverine."
Me: "You've made your father very proud today, little one."
5/15/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
-It's always been-"Michael's got the brains, Gob's got
the charm, and Buster's got the--
-High-fastening pants?
5/15/13 – Matt’s Facebook
Hollie, LG and G2 got stuck outside in the rain for about 10
minutes last week. Guess who enjoyed it?
5/21/13 – Matt’s Facebook
And what wondrous thing could cause such joyful expressions?
A blank green wall.
Boundless imagination, this one.
5/21/13 – Hollie’s Facebook
I hand my daughter a sock this afternoon and ask her to put
it in the hamper.
She replies: "Sure. What's a hamper?"
Truly a testament to my homemaking skills .
As G2 closes in on his 5-month birthday (tomorrow), it's maybe a good idea to post about his 4-month checkup. In defense of my belated post (and man, do I have a lot of excuses), I don't think Hollie and I have gotten less sleep at any point in our lives than we've gotten in the last four weeks.
What started as a typical 4-month sleep regression--waking up two or three times per night instead of one--has morphed into a waking nightmare of getting up every 10 to 30 minutes all night long .
It. Is. Not. Fun. At. All.
As awful as it is, I don't feel quite as stressed out about it as when similar things happened with LG. Because if we learned nothing else from her early days, it's that nothing lasts. This too shall pass. But if this could pass a little more quickly, I'd really appreciate it. This morning, I mentioned to Hollie that the lack of sleep has led to a general feeling that my brain is swollen, taking up more space in my head than normal. I think I've given her a complex.
Anyway. Doctor visits!
G2's weight is straight-down-the-middle normal. He clocked in at 15.11 lbs three weeks ago, good for 47th percentile.
His length, on the other hand, is a bit crazy. He's 27 inches long, or 95th percentile.
What's sort of amazing is that, by percentile, that's almost exactly where LG was at four months: 50th and 95th, weight and length.
What's even more amazing, to me at least, is the difference between those percentiles for girls and boys. At four months, LG was 13.44 lbs and 25.5 inches long. In fact, at six months, she still wasn't 27 inches, and only outweighed G2's 4-month weight by about 3 oz. That's a lot of numbers, but suffice to say it's no coincidence that my mom lifted G2 this weekend, and was amazed by how much baby is in that baby.
I'll just repeat my common refrain: Kryptonian DNA.
And this, of course, is the finest in Kryptonian formalwear
Though it still doesn't explain the crappy sleep patterns. Come on, buddy. Any less sleep, and my brain is going to show through my skull.
And I have a hard enough time finding hats that fit as it is.
Four months and three days ago, I had a toddler. A single kid, who was very cool, but very much a toddler. Now, I have two kids. And somewhere along the way, the toddler disappeared. I don't know how it happened exactly, but with all the accomplishments she's racked up in four months, she no longer qualifies.
What accomplishments, you say? I shall answer, as ever, with a list.
1. She's potty-trained.
I didn't think it could happen, but it did. There were moments when I was sure she'd never be potty trained, and yet, months later, here we are. (Side-note: Do not let anyone tell you that you can potty train a kid in a couple of days. Those people are dirty, dirty liars.) I won't get into the details, because all of you who have young children in diapers will get there soon enough, and I don't want to spoil anything for you. Suffice to say, it's a super fun time. (It is not a super fun time.) But now, if she needs to use the bathroom, she tells someone. It might be five minutes after I put her to bed, or halfway through the grocery store with a cart full of perishables, but she tells me, and more importantly, holds it 'til we can do something about it.
2. She's in pre-school
After several months in the older toddler room at daycare, someone decided that perhaps the child who talks circles around all but one of the other children (and several of the teachers) should be moved to the pre-school room. I was apprehensive about this, because she'd already been through a bunch of changes in a short time (new bed, new brother, new teacher in the room she was already in, the list goes on). But the only other kid in her class who could carry a conversation moved away, and during the summer the pre-schoolers get to go in the pool every day. That basically sealed the deal, and she's been doing great. She comes home every day with some new piece of information, like the day of the week or the town she lives in, and another story about splashing in the pool. Speaking of which...
3. She swims under her own power (with the aid of a PFD)
I'll let the video speak for itself.
4. No more plugs
I'm not sure if it's been made clear in this space before, but our pet word for pacifier is "plug." The reason should be self-explanatory. A few weeks ago, she slept without one for the first time. Taking the cue (maybe earlier than was necessary), we made the decision that plugs would go away. We boxed 'em up, and told her that since she was a big girl, we were sending them to a little kid who needed them. As is her custom whenever presented with the possibility of a new friend, she asked the child's name. We briefly panicked, then said the kid's name was Sally. This was a mistake. She then decided she needed to meet Sally, and we would need to make this happen. (Lesson to parents: If you say you're giving your plugs away, pick a young child who actually exists. Your kid is smarter than you think.) She eventually forgot about Sally, and after a night or two of general fussiness, she is now plug-free. If only all addictions were that easy to kick.
5. She is extraordinarily kind to her baby brother
This may not count, but I've got to say, we have been so surprised at how well she's adapted to having a younger sibling. There were some growing pains, to be sure, but she has never been anything less than loving and kind to G2. (She's thrown an extra fit or two her parents' way, but that's another story.)
This is a good hug, I promise.
Not to be outdone, G2 has been knocking down milestones at a steady clip. For instance:
1. He rolls over!
The day before his four-month birthday, out of the blue, the kid rolled over, not once, but five times. He rolled over so hard, he knocked the horizon 180 degrees out of whack. For those keeping track at home, he beat his sister to the punch by at least a couple of weeks.
2. He eats solid food
Okay, so he eats rice cereal, and "eats" may be a bit overstating it. But we put rice cereal in his mouth with a spoon, and at least some of it doesn't come back out again. LG even gets in on the action.
Although 2 seconds after the last picture, LG sneezed into the rice cereal, and the meal ended.
It's a cliché, but they do grow up fast. You can get sentimental about it, or you can be grateful you only have to change one set of diapers. I think I know which way I'm leaning.
Inspired by Conversations with my 2 Year Old, I'm going to periodically post conversations LG has with me and Hollie. (If you've never watched those, go ahead. I'll wait. They are hilarious, and more than a tiny bit creepy.) These conversations are not creepy at all, but they do illustrate that toddlers are on their own wavelength 90% of the time.
On trying to understand the word WHY at dinner
Me: Why are you licking your hand?
LG: Because Mama told me not to.
Me: No, that's why you shouldn't lick your hand. I'm asking why you are doing it.
LG: ...
Me: When I ask why, I'm asking you to tell me the reason you decided to do something. Why did you decide to lick your hand.
LG: Because I put it in my mouth.
Me: Okay, let's try this. What were you thinking about when you decided to lick your hand?
LG: Um... an elephant? (rimshot)
On transitive properties of freckles
LG: (from her carseat, frantically, while I'm driving) Daddy! I can't find my freckle!
Me: You have lots of freckles. What do you mean you can't find it?
LG: I can't find it! It's gone!
Me: There are at least three freckles on your legs. I'm sure they're still there.
LG: But this one moved!
Me: We'll double check your freckles when we get home. Your freckles can't move, sweetie.
LG: I found it! Oh, it's dirt.
On aggressive driving Not a conversation, per se, but interesting nonetheless. I'm driving home with both kids on a four-lane road. I need to make a left turn at a light, but I'm in the right lane because I got distracted by G2 crying in the backseat. I'm still a ways from the light, and I see an opening between two cars, probably 10 car lengths or so. Plenty of room to move over. In the process of moving into the left lane, I get in front of a guy who clearly thought he was going to put on the gas and sail through the light. Instead, he has to tap his brakes. (not slam, mind you. there was plenty of room between him and me.) Did I cut the guy off a little? Yes, but not that much. As it turns out, I don't even have to wait at the light. I made the turn quickly, without slowing down much at all, and he flies by behind me.
But as the guy flies through the light, he leans out his window and shouts "Jackass!" really loudly. LG immediately goes, "Daddy, someone shouted Jackie! Who were they talking to? Jackie, Jackie, Jackie."
She pays attention, but she doesn't pay attention that closely. On the conversational habits of infants. G2, for his part, is three months old, so he's not really talking. Of course it's hard to get much vocalization going when you're constantly trying to devour your own hand.
This Father's Day weekend, I was fortunate enough to see Man of Steel, which you'll note was on my to-do list back in early March. I'm especially grateful to Hollie for this, as most of that to-do list sadly sits undone. And given our son's name, it's especially appropriate that this is the movie I get to cross off that list. Another shout out to Peter and Steven, who also abandoned their kids for three hours to go see a man in tights beat up some other dudes in tights.
As it turns out, it's no accident the movie was released Father's Day weekend, since the main emotional through-line of the film is a father's (or more than one father, in this case) sacrifice for his son. The film would like you to believe that Jor-El and Pa Kent were paragons of virtue, willing to do whatever it takes to be the best fathers they could be. Whether or not the film successfully makes this point, well... that's another thing entirely.
So in the spirit of Father's Day, I present to you "Lessons in Fatherhood: Man of Steel Edition." (For the wary, or those who plan to see the movie, fair warning, SPOILERS ahead.)
DO
...Protect your family from harm, even in the face of death. Jor-El faces off against General Zod early in the film, giving his wife, Lara Lor-Van, enough time to safely launch their son into space, thus saving young Kal-El from Zod's stated intention to murder him AND from Krypton's imminent destruction. As a father, I'd like to think I've got the fortitude necessary to protect my children in the face of catastrophe or murderous military leaders with questionable haircuts.
DON'T
...Make a computer program that preserves your own consciousness and likeness (effectively granting yourself eternal life) so that you can interact with your child as though you'd never died, but NOT do the same for your wife. That's just a jerk move, Jor-El.
DO
...Care for the helpless. Jonathan Kent (along with Martha) opens his home to a child whose history, nay entire being, he can't hope to comprehend. The compassion necessary to make such a commitment is extraordinary. That single act not only gives the world Superman, but provides the basis for Superman's actions as a hero. Would that I can impart such compassion to my children.
DON'T
...Sacrifice yourself to save the family dog. It's just not worth it. Your son is Superman. He just saved like five people from a tornado. If the dog has to live, let your son do it. Because now, he has to live with the fact that he could've saved you, but stopped when you conveyed a look that said, "No. Your secret as an alien with superpowers is too important to waste on saving me, your adopted father, even though at least 30 people in our town have already seen you do crazy stuff, and we just had an argument where you yelled at me. My death is too important as a source of guilt. With great power comes great responsibility. Wait, what franchise am I in?"
Kids, if you're reading this, please remember something very important. I will never sacrifice my life to save the dog. And if it looks like I'm going to, and you have the power to stop me, or save me with no harm to yourself, please do it.
If you take nothing else from this blog ever, let it be this: I am more important than the dog.
Much has been made of late about the importance of STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Math) education in the U.S. Is it important for our country to invest in getting our children interested in STEM topics? Sure, probably. But like a lot of things related to education, the battle starts at home.
You want your kids to like reading? Read to them.
You want your kids to like art? Create with them.
You want your kids to like science? Make rockets, chemical reactions and dinosaurs everyday activities.
How will you know it's working? Here are a few clues you're doing it right.
1. When you realize you're able to forgive almost any mess on the basis of its scientific merit.
Admittedly, Hollie is way better about this than I am. Though I'm far from a neat freak, I get heart palpitations just looking at this picture. But, hey, cause and effect! Non-newtonian fluids! Rate of absorption!
That being said, Cornstarch + Water = Science!
Rolled Oats + Water = Ridiculous Mess!
2. The weirdest things become science.
Hollie and I talk about science a lot at home. She works at a natural science museum and I work at a research university, so that's not terribly surprising. What's weird is how LG interprets and recontextualizes the very word "science." For instance, every month we get a calendar page from her daycare listing special events. And every month, the calendar page goes missing for a week because she carries it around the house, proclaiming that we can't have it, because, "it's my science! I need it... for science."
This, it should be said, is a great answer to every question, ever.
3. Goggles become an every day accessory.
Because science can strike at any time.
4. Your toddler schools your friends regarding prehistoric life.
What follows is a conversation between LG and a few friends who came to visit last week.
Adult #1: "What's your favorite dinosaur, LG?"
LG: "I like triceratops, or maybe T-rex."
Adult #2: "That's cool. I think my favorite dinosaur is the pterodactyl."
LG: "..."
Adult #1: "Yeah! Pterodactyls are great dinosaurs, don't you think!"
LG: "No. Not a dinosaur. That's a flying reptile."
Boom. Roasted.
5. Because acid/base neutralization isn't the only reaction you get when you mix vinegar and baking soda (and Kool-Aid powder).
I didn't write about this when G2 was born, possibly because having two kids dramatically reduced my capacity to do anything but take care of two kids, but our son was a big newborn. Not scary big, but big. Nine pounds, three ounces--90th percentile-big.
Interestingly, we were given no indication during Hollie's pregnancy that this was the case (a marked contrast to LG's timein utero). He measured right-on-the-money average at every single checkup; until the day he was to be born, when a concerned nurse suggested a last-minute ultrasound to check if he might be on the large side. One scan later, she estimated his weight at 9 lbs, 6 oz; remarkably close to the truth, given how inaccurate full-term ultrasounds usually are.
All of that said, he didn't look big. When you compare pictures of LG and G2 at one-day old, there's not much difference.
Yeah, so I see some differences now, but in the first 24 hours, I would've sworn it was the same kid.
Fast forward two months, and they still look remarkably similar. I'd often wondered whether or not my kids would resemble each other, mostly because my brothers and I didn't (at least not when we were kids. Now that we're all bald, there's no doubt we're related.)
And that brings us to his two-month checkup. Four shots, one oral vaccine, and couple of measurements. For all his initial bigness, and as much as he seems bigger that I remember LG being, he's nearly average.
For those of you who don't speak metric, that's 12 lbs 1 oz, or 58th percentile.
Similarly, his length is 23 1/2 inches, for 53rd percentile.
And for all the other milestones that matter, things are right on track. One thing I don't remember from when LG was an infant was how quickly certain things happen. For instance, one day G2 wasn't tracking faces, and the next day he was. One day he didn't really grab things, and the next day he could. I remember being aware of transitions with LG in a way that I'm not with G2, and I don't know whether or not the in-between spots were in my imagination.
Or maybe he's transitioning from one milestone to the next while I'm watching his sister. He's only been around two months, and they've already worked out the art of misdirection.
