Max had to endure a doctor's appointment yesterday, which came complete with a thorough check-up, a poke or a prod in all the most personal and sensitive areas, and two shots. Ian and I were both highly pessimistic when we had to wake Max up, get him dressed, and stuff some food into him at seven a.m., accompanied by the melodious sound of Max howling bloody murder. Once we got to the doctor's, however, Max perked up considerably, and played with the toys in the waiting area with enthusiasm. His visit went well -- Max did not like the shots, but bore them manfully, and he showed off his walking and climbing skills by running around like a naked maniac the whole time the doctor was trying to examine him. Currently, Max is 33 inches tall, putting him in the 88th percentile for his age. He weighs in at 26pounds, 11 ounces (the 71st percentile and a big leap from his last visit). His head continues to set new records for size as well as beauty, although the doctor did say that the growth seems to be slowing down a little. He is also meeting or exceeding all his developmental milestones, in spite of his prematurity and the burden of carrying around his giant cranium. While the visit went better than expected, Max did have a bit of a rough afternoon and evening. One of the shots he got was in the muscle of his calf, and it made him a bit stiff-legged and clumsy. As a result, he tripped and banged his face against the piano leg before dinner, getting a bloody and swollen lip to add to his list of woes. On the plus side, the shots, the facial wound, and the long day all combined to make Max an object of great pity to his parents, and he was spoiled in the following ways:
1) Max often gets to play on the computer with Ian, but he is generally discouraged from touching the screen. Last night, however, Ian found a soothing fish screen-saver for Max to look at (he is into fish lately), and Max was permitted to point at the fish as they drifted to and fro.
2) I "shared" my ice-cream bar with Max (which basically means that I held it and Max ate it). It soothed Max's swollen lip, and seemed to go a long way toward healing his bruised soul, as well.
3) Yes, I taught preschool for a long time, and I took all the classes and read all the books, so I know how important it is to be consistent when establishing a new routine (such as teaching your child to sleep in his own bed, for instance). Last night, however, Ian and I both agreed that a violation of the rules was in order, and Max was put to bed in the big bed. He had had such a long day, he was running a little fever from the shots, he was swollen and disgruntled, and he is our cherished little baby, so we all slept in the big bed, crowded and smashed but peaceful. Max is in much better spirits today, and looks significantly less like a boxer who just lost his last few rounds to Mike Tyson.