Maggie had her two-month check-up yesterday, which is the one that I dread because the first shots happen at the end of it. Despite the pall that impending needles cast over the day, it was nice to hear from the pediatrician that Maggie is a perfect specimen of babyhood (even though we already knew it), and to find out how much she has grown. Maggie is presently weighing in at 13lbs. 2oz., measuring 24 1/4 inches, and has a head that is 40.5cm in circumference. The doctor was very impressed by Maggie's strength (which is intimidating), her vocalizations (which are melodious and sometimes sound freakishly word-like), and her mellow disposition.
Speaking of mellow dispositions, and bringing the story on its long, meandering path on home to my point, the shots were not a big hit with young Margaret. She never got a fever, but she was clearly sore, especially on the legs, and she screamed whenever she was put down, moved away from the boob, touched on the legs, breathed on, or looked at wrong. I felt so desperately sorry for her that I don't think I put her down once yesterday. This gave me many exciting opportunities to figure out how to get through an entire day one-handed. I'm like MacGyver now, people. I can change diapers using one hand, a stick of gum, and a toothpick. Maggie is much improved this morning, so my new skills might not be needed for awhile, but I plan to keep them well-honed. There are shots coming up at the four-month appointment, too, after all.