It's not only a game we are working on at our house, but it's the truth.
This morning the lil' dude had her 9mo. appointment. How come pregnancy crawled. at. a. snail's. pace.? but these 9 months have gone OMGSHE'SHOWOLDWITHHOWMANYTEETHCLAPPINGHERHANDSANDEATINGSAUTEEDCHICKEN? She literally took forever to get here. And she's literally taking seconds to go.
Her Ped. is what you'd expect in a baby's doctor. He talks sing-songy and calls her "boooo-teee-full" so often the Dad counts in his head. "Only 8 times this appointment," he will tell me in the car. He tells us her growth is text-book perfect. He tells us it's OK to get her on the Next Step formula and to give her Motrin. He gently reminds me she is measured in inches tall now, instead of inches long. But the lil' dude isn't 29.5" inches tall . . . she's too little to be tall. He commends us for not seeing her since her 6mo. well baby check up in June- no visits to the ER? no breathing treatments at home? He was the same sweet doctor who gave me Kleenex for my tears when my tiny baby contracted RSV when she was 2 months old. He's sweet, gentle, asks enough about the Dad's and my lives non-related to the baby. Sports, vacations, weather. But everything is about her, really.
So we left the Ped's. office clutching a new book (love the community grants for free books through the clinic) and her stats envelope proclaiming 85% for weight and 97% for height and 94% for melon circumference. The Dad asks me if I am going to schedule her 12mo. appointment since we are there.
I ask the nurse at reception. No, she says, the December calendar isn't out yet.