She turned 4 months old on Tuesday, her well-baby visit was today.
97th percentile height (26 inches)
97th percentile head circumference
9(mumbled)th percentile weight (17 lb 5 oz — mumbled because she’s off the chart. Somewhere higher than 97th)
She’s wearing 6-9 month clothes comfortably; the brand new 3-6 month clothes that haven’t been shrunk in the wash over time can usually fit, but not always.
She screamed at her shots this time. Last visit, she ignored the first shot completely. It was only with the second needle that she realized that she didn’t like it. This time, she remembered and knew better.
She rolled over from her belly to her back tonight after we got home. Multiple times.
She talks. She yells. She laughs deep, beautiful baby chortles. She bites her toes. She blows raspberries. She likes to swing around, raised high to the ceiling and dip upside down to the floor. She loves to play baby “claw.” She does this full-body lunge at the boo or the bottle (she just started accepting a bottle). She gets mad at her caterpillar when she can’t get the bit she wants into her mouth.
She has long fingers and long toes, and fat rolls that go for days.
She has green eyes and the most fabulous baby faux-hawk.
She embodies every reason why I wanted her.
I love you baby. Happy four-months.