LizaWasHere

Yesterday, Noah had his 1 year doctor checkup.

We were extremely surprised by the official results:

• Weight: 22 lbs, 15.4 oz (54th percentile)
• Height: 30.75 inches (80th percentile)
• Head Circ: 18.75 inches (90th percentile)

Our scale has overestimated Noah’s weight, compared to the official, every visit. I’ve decided that must mean it is also overestimating my weight and can thus pretend I’m svelte. (Ok, maybe not svelte. But maybe it is time to consider a new scale. That one was $20 when I bought it 10 years ago, maybe the measuring bit is losing accuracy.)

That’s also only 1/4 inche in vertical growth since the 9 month visit, an observably false measurement. HOWEVER, we thought he wasn’t quite that tall last time, and this time, I actually trust the measurement.

After the fun part of measuring everything, we did the no-fun part: shots. Noah was very brave, not crying during the fingerprick or the first shot, but by the 3rd one, he was NOT enjoying himself any more.

When it was all over, I cuddled Noah on my shoulder, rubbing his back and telling him it was ok. As he calmed down, he started to gently pat and rub my shoulder too. Noah made these comforting gestures as if he knew that I hated him having to get shots and cry almost as much as he hated it.

And then I died from the sweetness.

Have you ever noticed that every word in the English language sounds kind of like the word “toes?” Or at least every word that you might want to teach a toddler?

(Gulp. I just called my baby a toddler. But it’s true, he toddles. Can you call someone who toddles anything but a toddler? Wait, that’s not the language thing I wanted to talk about, although that one is also hard.)

Noah may or may not say the word “toes” — I’m not sure.

But he knows his toes. In the bathtub, if I say, “Noah, where are your toes?” he grins and lifts a foot out of the water.

Tuesday, as he was playing with his TWO washclothes, I said “two” a few times, holding my hand up with 2 fingers up, and the next thing I knew, Noah was grinning and lifting his foot out of the water.

Got it. Two sounds too much like toe.

I switched gears and started playing with his adorable toes.

Yesterday morning, Noah was exploring while nursing; once he got bored with my teeth, he started trying to pick my nose. As I moved my nostrils out of range, I also said, “Nose. Nose. Mama’s Nose. Mama’s Nose.” Of course that led to me tapping his nose and saying, “Noah’s Nose.”

Whereupon Noah immediately reached for his foot.

And then he remembered that his actual favorite game to play while nursing is “Circus Contortionist.”

That ends any discussion of toes or noses, since Noah becomes immediately busy trying to stick the landing on an arabesque, without interrupting his food supply, and I am  forced to focus on keeping him from falling off the couch or injuring the food supply.

The absolute best thing about watching Noah talk in words — as opposed to chatter in interesting sounds — is the pride in his face when he knows that he’s successfully communicated with us. Bye-bye and Night-Night seem to deliver the biggest thrills.

What’s your favorite thing about babies talking? Or least favorite thing?