You know your baby’s a tad fat when:
1) His legs are thicker than your own mother’s calves;
2) You almost toppled over at mother’s group whilst picking him up;
3) His cheeks wobble when he laughs;
4) His thigh rolls remind you of the Michelin man every time you change him; and
5) Your doctor suggests that you might want to consider diluting his formula…
Still, I’m not complaining because Pete is a mega (ha!) cute baby, and he is simply thriving. Plus, I don’t have to worry about him not putting on weight and I’m sure that my arms are more toned than ever before.
We do need to find a new cot for him though (so much for keeping him in his fancy Cariboo basinette for six months!), and we need to get a car seat for Angus ASAP so that we can swap Pete over into his. At most, we are a week or so away from his head actually poking out of the baby capsule. As it is, his little round head keeps bumping the handle bars every time I try and get him out of it.
I just can’t get over what a dream baby he is. He naps during the day, and he sleeps well at night. He giggles, he laughs, he smiles and he coos all day long. He feeds well, and he poos only once a day.
This little roly poly man makes me want to keep having babies.
Dangerous child, he is.
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