He turned four back in June, but we’ve been off schedule with his well-child appointments for a few years now (and it’s pretty impossible to get BACK on schedule because of insurance, blahdy blah) so it was September by the time we got in to see the doctor. (And I always feel like I’ll come off as a neurotic, helicopter mom if I whip out my camera at the doctor’s office, so Jeff saved me the grief and secretly snapped photos with his phone.)
3 feet, 4 inches tall. 37 pounds. I can’t remember the exact percentiles, but he’s in the meaty part of the curve. Up a few inches and a few pounds since last year. This baby blood pressure cuff cracked me up. It was tiny!
After checking in and getting his vitals, it was time to wait for a few minutes. So, naturally, we did this:
CLICK HERE if you don’t see a video.
Give me a break. Do you know how few things there are to DO in an empty room that size?
The poking and prodding was quick and painless, and he only had to get one quick shot.
How pitiful is that face?
If I remember correctly, the bandaid had skateboarding dinosaurs on it. What’s not to love?? (Note: We painstakingly bathed him around that darn bandaid for three days. What is it with kids and bandaids?!)
Before we left he got to pick something out of this basket of goodies — a ruler shaped like an elephant! He informed us it would make an excellent addition to his tool box. Always thinkin’, this one.
Conversation later that day:
Colt: (Evidently having pondered it all day.) Mommy, the doctor called me a rockstar.
Me: Mmm hmm.
Colt: But I’m not a rockstar.
Me: Sure you are.
Colt: No… Rockstars have a microphone and cool clothes. *sigh* I don’t even have rockstar clothes.