The Stories of our Lives

Transl. “Mini-fairie” (Minifée being a TV character/program from the sixties – it ran sometime in the eighties, too.)

On the menu

I was pretty psyched about starting to eat. Every meal of the day, I sit on the sidelines and watch Mama, Daddy and Xavier stuff their faces and chat and laugh, and can’t share in the fun. Finally, the latest trip to the grocery held something for ME! I was installed in the big high chair, donned my first bib and watched that colorful spoon approach with anticipation. At long last, I would taste…

Milk. It’s milk. In a spoon.

Yeah, it’s a little more thick, but it’s still full of milk. It seemed such a big deal; I was expecting something different. Sigh. We’ll see how that goes.

What else is new

I got my shots this week. Stupid needle poking. But I didn’t cry too much, and I got ladybug stickers on my thighs, so that’s cool.

I also left off gnawing on my fingers and found other handy chewables.

Starting to move around a lot, too. Mom was baffled – after leaving me alone a couple minutes in my crib in the hopes that I would fall asleep by myself – to find me grabbing onto the mobile two feet farther, trying to get a lick off the monkey’s paw.

Tiny Orly

Now get this: the nurse weighted me at 12 lbs at my shots on Thursday, and I’m 24 inch long, so mama updated my growth chart. A couple months back, I was 50/50 percentile. Now I’m at percentile 25 in height, and percentile 10 in weight!

I’m my brother’s opposite: while strangers would exclaim at how tall he was for his age, I get the exclamations over being older than what people expect. Mom’s just impatient for me to grow a little so she can dress me up in new clothes… but not too much, either; she loves her little baby.