I remember when it seemed like Robbie’s three-month check-up would never come. It seemed like he was never going to be a big boy, just a little baby who fit in the awful denim sling that saved my life the first nine months. I would never need the umbrella stroller my mom got for me. Robbie would never be big enough to fit in all those monstrous 12-month clothes people gave me at my showers. But, slowly, it happened. Robbie started to grow up. He grew out of the sling. The umbrella stroller became a fixture in the Jeep. We bought another one for the Honda (mothers really do know best). And Robbie wore those 12-month clothes. And quickly grew out of them.
Today was Robbie’s 18-month check-up. It seems like he’s been here forever, but I’m not sure how forever managed to go by so quickly. He weighed in at 25 pounds, 12 ounces. For those of you with exceptionally creepy memories, you’ll notice that he only gained six ounces over the last three months. I was a little concerned. Then I saw how much he grew. Right at 2.5 inches. No wonder I noticed his belly disappearing! He’s back down to the 55th percentile for weight and back up to the 95th percentile for height.
Fortunately, Robbie was diagnosed as a normal 18-month-old. Particularly the screaming when Dr. Sheldon approached him with her stethoscope. And forget about when she tried to look into his eyes. I had to hold him down so she could check his ears. Three minutes later, the tears had dried and kisses were blown in an attempt to reconcile. Mission accomplished.