Of Mice and Meats.

I often have called Josephine "Josephine Mouse." Mostly because she is small and sweet and quiet and lovable. Today, though, we could officially subtract quiet and small. It was the much-awaited (by me) two month check up. As for Josephine, she could have done without it. The shots antagonized her (as did the doctor's poking and prodding). If she could have rolled away, she would have had none of it. The shots turned her face the color of a ripe raspberry and are the first reason I can't really call her "Mouse" - and she could only be comforted by my hugs (which, admittedly, I liked).

As for "small," she is no longer. Here is quick timeline of Josephine's weight in life so far. (With commentary, of course.)

December 31 - 6 lb 8 oz. A small, but reasonably-sized, baby.
January 4 - 5 lb 13oz. A much smaller baby - in fact, they were hesitant to discharge us.
January 6 - 6 lb 0 oz. The pediatrician was not concerned. She felt like this was ok.
January 7 - 6 lb 1 oz. Still on the up and up.
February 5 - 8 lb 12 oz. Whoa Jelly! This put her in the 50th percentile for weight (she was just over 25th for height.)
March 3 - 12 lb 1 oz. Holy Meat (trying to come up with a Catholic joke here for Lent). I mean, how can I call a child "Mouse" when she is so massive! And, what makes her more adorable, if possible, is that she is in the 25th percentile for height and the 90th for weight. Can you imagine anything cuter than a short, fat baby? I cannot. (Except maybe a delicate, blond sasspants kissing a short, fat roly poly)