Mister J went to the Doc today.
31" tall = 90th percentile
25.2 lbs = 80th percentile
Three shots, fewer than three seconds of crying.
He was pronounced happy and healthy. And brilliant. And compassionate. And handsome. And loving. And interesting. And interested. And willing. And able.
On the standard checklist, we could check off MOST boxes. He can stand assisted (he can stand unassisted, in fact). He can pull himself up to standing. He can say three meaningful words and/or phrases. (I don't know how meaningful "uh-oh" is when it's not used in context, but I'm counting it.) He can pincher grab with his thumb and finger. The only box we could NOT check off was pointing at people and/or objects, but I don't think we've ever asked him to do that. It's not polite, you know. It's not Southern. What if we teach him to say y'all and ma'am and to wave when people let him cut in traffic -- can we substitute those skills?
Dr. Geoff asked how the breastfeeding was going. Sigh. I gave him the "HOA don't allow no chickin in ma yard" line and explained that we had already transitioned to milk. It's (self-imposed) high pressure to be an Austin Mama sometimes. We shop at the farmer's market and expose our children to live music and cook with a heck of a lotta cilantro. We're a long way from gathering or own eggs (damn HOA), drinking goat's milk, and breastfeeding until kindergarten, but I think the kids are going to turn out just fine. Look at his percentiles, people -- already an A/B student. :)