Blogging the Bry: 15 Months and Counting

Yesterday was Bry's 15-month well-baby checkup. He is, indeed, well. I'm gonna go ahead and post his stats, though I'm taking the numbers more as estimates, rather than true indicators of Bry's size. Let's just say that Bry was very upset about the idea of lying down on the exam table and being submitted to measurement, much like one would measure an end table at Ikea to make sure it will fit the empty space between the couch and the wall. He cried and writhed around in general misery, so that by the time the nurse called out a number, I'm pretty sure the tape measure had slipped, giving Bry an extra inch or so that he hasn't actually yet grown. Placing him on the scale didn't go much better. The kid in front of him cried while being weighed, and Bry followed suit, screwing up his face into his heartbreaking "How could you do this to me?" face.

Disclaimer aside, here are the numbers:

Height: 31.5" plus or minus about 6" given the aforementioned tape slipping scandal

Weight: 24.25 pounds

Head: 18.75" (or so)

Basically, we confirmed that Bry is bigger than his last exam three months ago. His pediatrician didn't indicate any concerns about his growth or weight gain, so we're going to go ahead with the assumption that he's just fine.

Bry cheered up almost immediately after the mean, mean, tape measure wielding nurse left the room. While we waited for the ped to show up, Bry amused himself by stacking a bunch of plastic rings on my finger, taking them off, transferring them to the floor, bringing them to Steve, lining them back up on the floor, and so on. When the doc arrived, Bry was still hard at work on his task; he continued with his singular stacking, transferring, and lining up through the litany of our questions for the doc, and would clap for himself after finishing a particular portion of the sequence. The ped smiled, fussed over Bry's skills, and clapped back, causing Bry to puff out his little tummy with pride. You could almost hear the gears turning in his head, "Watch! I can put them over here now. And also over here." Clap, clap, clap. He had turned the charm up to potentially toxic levels, probably to demonstrate to the doc that, even though his parents were saying he seems to lack the gene for knowing how to sleep like a normal person, he's a good guy. See?

Ten minutes into his routine, the doc commented, "Boy, he sure is persistent, isn't he? We'll write that down as a positive!" And then she actually stopped to write it down. "PERSISTENT!" Or maybe she was just writing down "CRAZY!" in the margins of the chart - who's to say? Steve and I looked at each other tentatively before Steve cautioned, "That's normal, right? Because he could keep doing this for the rest of the afternoon." She laughed (but totally with us, not at us) and reassured us that his toddler form of OCD is perfectly normal. She went on to inform us that his perseveration is a sign of a healthy attention span and that performing the same task repeatedly helps him to feel good about himself. That's the sign of a good pediatrician right there: turning parents' neuroses into an unequivocal sign that their child is a genius. That's totally what she was saying, right?

Bry sat on my lap for the actual exam, and was pronounced fit and adorable. When the ped was examining his belly he giggled and giggled - and as if I don't already have enough of a crush on her - she laughed and said, "His giggle should be recorded for one of those laughing babies commercials! It's perfect!"

After she left the room to fetch the lab for Bry's immunizations and blood test, I started to feel that feeling of dread I get each time Bry gets poked with the jabby, jabby needles. Even though I'm not the one getting the shots, it's been excruciating in the past to watch Bry howl in surprise and pain as the nurse stealthily jabs him. But this time, Bry faced down the nurse with only mild confusion. She poked his finger for the blood test and squeezed out 15 or 20 drops of blood as he watched on with what appeared to be boredom. No crying, no need for me to pin him down like I've had to in the past. She taped up his finger and he waved it around, considering his bandaged appendage with great interest. Ditto with the immunization. In, out, and over, baby. Whew. Compared with last time, I'd say we made off easy.