Abby had her 1 year check-up this past Friday. Only a month late. Because I can barely remember to brush my teeth most days, let alone schedule a doctor’s appointment.
She’s 21 pounds, almost 30 inches, and full of unyielding moxie. Which isn’t much different than her last visit.
We also had to have her blood drawn to test for lead. This went over exceptionally well, as you can probably imagine. And in case you weren’t aware, exceptionally well is just another way to say horrifically awful.
While the boys and I were waiting for J and Abby to finish assaulting the nurse’s eardrums (I can guarantee she will never hear the same again), Jedi took to a little boy wandering the area. It looked as if he was there with two teenage boys, most likely his much older brothers. After awhile, Jedi walks up to me, confused.
“How can those men have a baby? Only Mommy’s can have babies. Where does a baby come out of a man?” I did my best to hush him and divert his attention elsewhere (look! SHINY), because while these may be legitimate questions, this was not a conversation I was eager to engage in at that particular time. Or, possibly ever.