Our giant baby

Taylor had her two-month check-up today, concluding the guess-her-weight game Chris and I have been playing for the past week. I said ten pounds, Chris said 15. She split us with a hefty 12 pounds, nine ounces. She also grew three inches and is now 23 ¼ inches long. And as Dr Childers looked her over, I just stared at her big belly and chubby legs and realized that my little girl is not so little anymore. And any doubts I had of whether I was feeding her enough went right out the window. I have produced a giant baby.

The doctor said she checked-out great. 100% healthy and right where she should be for a two-month old. Taylor was a dream during the exam, smiling and cooing while he poked and prodded. Then came in the nurse with her vaccinations. She got three shots, and when the first needle poked her, Taylor screamed and her head got as red as a ripe tomato and tears came rolling out of her eyes. Heartbreaking.

When we got home she received her first-ever dose of infant Tylenol, to which she sucked the dropper clean to get every last taste of the cherry flavoring. The doctor told us she was going to be tired and cranky for the rest of the day, so I tried to get a few pictures of her early. I begged for a big smile, but she was all, You try smiling after getting poked with needles. Not to mention these band-aids don’t even match my outfit. Get that camera outta my face.