four month appointment.

obviously these pictures were taken before the dreaded shots.

but it's all over with now. i love the doctor. love him.

hate the shots. hate them hate them hate them. and yes, i realize that hate is a strong word. but i mean it. they are terrible.

his face turned a bright shade of red. think deep red. blood red. it was horrible.

but according to dr. stanford, he's growing like a weed.

he is 27 inches long. 95th percentile. his exact words to me, "your husband must be tall...?"

he weighs 14 pounds, 15 ounces. 45th percentile. he's a skinny little thing. he DOES get that from his dad.

pratt loved dr. stanford's stethoscope. he was pretty intrigued by it. and he didn't fuss at all when he listened to his breathing and his bowel sounds. looked in his mouth, nose and ears. he just layed there and smiled. dr. stanford actually said, "is he always this happy?"

oh, that makes me so happy. i was glad to report that he is actually usually that happy. and again...from his daddy. i live on an emotional rollercoaster. as the sign that hung on my bedroom door once said, "if it weren't for my mood swings, i'd get no exercise at all."

pratt is fast asleep now. i've been in there three times already to check on him. i hate seeing those bandaids on his legs. i'm ready for him to wake up.

hopefully the campho-phenique worked and he won't be sore. oh...and he said we could start baby foods now! i don't want to just yet. because that means he's getting older. and i refuse to let this child get any older. at least, not right now. we'll wait until he's 5 months to do that. or maybe 6. or maybe never....