Adia the Chatterbox

Adia has started talking, and is picking up words at an amazing rate. So far, she says:

Grandpa (said more like "anpa" but only to Grandpa Jeffery, so we know it's him)
Mama
Dada
uh-oh (especially when something drops. I'm glad she says this since it's vastly preferable to her repeating some of the other things I say when I drop something)
thank you (or, more accurately, dank you)
bye-bye (she waves too)

and. . .

Dora. Every. Time. the theme music comes on.

She's in the 60th percentile for height and not even on the charts for weight. So much for breastmilk being so calorie dense! We are "powerpacking" her diet now, and hopefully that will help her put on some pounds. The doctor's not worried, and she is very healthy and obviously developing well and not malnourished . . . we'd just like to see a bit more meat on her bones.

Comments

Kimberly said…
We have the opposite problem with Colin. I think my arm is going to fall from carrying him around. At least it's socially acceptable to be "dainty" if you're a girl, right? I can't believe she's talking! I need to meet her!!
12:33 PM
Anonymous said…
I want to meet her, too!
And I think you have the right attitude about her weight. Dr. Sears (who writes those good baby books) says look at the baby, not the charts.
8:37 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

If I spent half the time posting as I do reading. . .

I'd blog a WHOLE lot more. I've been sick. The kids have been sick. We were supposed to go to North Carolina this week, but Trea managed to catch the flu (and distinguish herself as the first patient the doctor had seen, who managed to get the A strain of influenza despite receiving a flu vaccine). We cancelled the trip, and I'm relieved because they would have been miserable. Might as well be miserable at home. Work has been crazy, not because of the actual work, but because our office is apparently cursed. My boss and one of my co-workers have both been diagnosed with serious medical conditions - one curable, the other chronic but treatable. I'm afraid I'm going to develop a brain tumor, or get pregnant or something. (I think I'd rather have the brain tumor, frankly; being pregnant with Adia was the most miserable experience of my life. The tumor can be cut out, usually, and no one expects me to be happy about having it.) Sorry, I'm in a bad mood. I should
Read more

This is my one hundredth post

So I should probably say something profound. Hmm, I got nothing. So. Saturday night we splurged and ordered Thai take-out from the place up the street. The guy who owns it is SO nice, very friendly, he's Thai and his wife is Cambodian, and their food is awesome. I was eating Massaman curry when Adia walked over and made her "um, um" sounds, which means "I want a bite." I told her it was hot. She insisted. I gave her a teeny bit of curry with some rice, and waited for her to spit it out. Nope. She ate it. And asked for more. Adia loves spice. She won't eat ground beef without some taco seasoning on it. She won't eat bland scrambled eggs. I wonder if the flavor of food a pregnant woman eats affects the amniotic fluid? Hmmm. Trea, on the other hand, does not even like black pepper. But, aside from an aversion to spicy foods, she's a really good eater. She'll try almost anything, and she eats most of the things I cook on a regular basis. I'm not
Read more
Today was supposed to be a peaceful, spiritual day, watching my daughter get baptized and confirmed a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It didn't go exactly as planned. Yesterday, when I picked Trea up from school, she told me that it hurt when she peed, and she'd had to go to the restroom at school four times during the school day. Uh-oh. She's had three UTIs already this year. So, since it's 4 pm when I get home, and my doctor's office is 30 minutes away, I decide to wait until John gets home and take her to the urgent care clinic near our house. He gets home at 7. We go to urgent care, deal with an overly perky doctor who at first tries to convince me it's just irritation from her imperfect hygiene, and then writes a prescription when the test comes back positive. We get home at 10. Today, Trea was miserable. Wavering between wanting to be baptized and just wanting to go home. I talked her into it, mostly because my dad had come
Read more