www.Bellyville.net:

Happy Weekend!

I hope your weekend is filled with laughter! See you Monday...

July 30, 2010 | Permalink | Comments (0)

Twelve Months! (That's a YEAR, people.)

Sully visited the doctor yesterday for his twelve-month checkup. He was a very good little boy during his exam--I invited his doctor to our house to be Sully's official diaper changer, because I've never seen our little guy lay so still. The doctor said no, so I begged for his secret instead. He just laughed. Like I was kidding or something.

Naturally, since I had just told you all about the gigantic 90-billionth percentile children in our family, Sully had to go and prove me wrong. He's 31 inches tall (86th percentile) and 23lb 13oz (64th, baby). Clearly, he did it on purpose. He's a skinny little dude, and it's obviously due to all that moving around he's been doing--and probably the not sitting still. Because the boy eats like a horse, so that's not it.

Seriously, he is either eating or asking to eat all the time. He knows the sign for "more." Knows it very well. And he walks around the house frantically signing "more, more, more, MORE!" to anyone who will look at him. (Sully's version of more involves bunching up all five fingers of one hand and touching them to the open palm of his other hand. When he's really serious, he jabs his fingers into his palm while giving you the stink-eye.)

Anyway. The twelve-month appointment is a doozy because they administer four(!) shots, AND take blood to test for anemia. Sully is...a bit of a wuss in the pain department, which means he screamed (and screamed and screamed) when he got poked for his shots. Like to the point where we were almost beyond feeling bad for him and starting to look at him like "Dude. We get it. You hurt. Cool it!" And as anyone who knows me can tell you, it takes a LOT for my soft-touch of a heart to get to that point.

Finally, I was able to soothe my poor little babe and we snuggled for a bit before taking him down to the lab...to jab his finger with a giant needle and squeeze out a vial of blood drop...by...drop. After his reaction to his shots, I can't quite articulate how much I was dreading this little adventure. But to the lab we went, and I confidently (sort of) carried him to the back when they called his name. I warned the lady about the major freak out he'd just had, we wished each other luck, and she jabbed him.

Sully just sat there, watching her. I think he even yawned, that's how not-bothered he was by her squeezing the blood out of his finger. Huh. (Just like his sister, three years ago.)

He received the requisite stickers, and a giant red mitten of a bandage (of which Eva was extreeeeemely jealous) because apparently they don't give little ones band-aids anymore since they just eat them or something.

With all the trauma of the morning (plus the fact that we brilliantly scheduled his appointment over his usual naptime) our little man was asleep within minutes of getting into the car. I brought him home, snuggled him into his bed, and he snoozed for a good hour.