We went to our first well checkup at our new pediatrician in North Carolina today. Since we changed doctors, I thought I'd made the appointment at 18 months, but for some reason I hadn't and couldn't get him in until now, 19 months.
Weight: 23 lbs (10th percentile)
Height: 32 inches (30th percentile)
Head circumference 48.5 cm (70th percentile)
I liked the way this doctor operated. He had me fill out a booklet, checking off what Carter can or can't do, then added up his score for several categories. He was average or above average for everything, except putting together two-word sentences (for example: Milk mama). I explained that he says uh oh, all done, no more and oh no, but as it turns out, those are actually memorized phrases and not cognitive sentences he puts together.
He excelled in fine motor skills. - as most boys do. Finally! This is the first I've heard of something boys do better than girls!
We ended the appointment with his last, tear-filled vaccine shot. Until kindergarden. And since we're living in the mindset that the kindergarden age will never come, that's a good place to be.
Here's us being patient patients. (Blurry phone apologies)
Later we met up with Daddy to buy a wireless printer from Office Depot (I've been super inspired by the show Extreme Couponing and want to try my hand at saving hundreds of dollars on mustards and junk food). Goal #1: Print enough coupon cash to make up for the money spent on the printer.
We went home; Daddy was setting up the printer while Carter was entertaining himself, spinning around in perfect little circles with me cheering him on. Faster than I could blink, he lost his balance, and his head flew into the corner of a wall. I grabbed him. He was in hysterics. When I moved his hair uncover his forehead, I gaped at a purple, veiny alien, well on its way to bursting out of his head. By its speed of rising, the skin would explode any second. My brain flipped to images of blood leaking out his eyes if the bump didn't stop. My heart was flying somewhere around the kitchen.
We ran to the car - shoeless and not knowing where any hospitals are - and Matt drove like a madman. When our GPS calmed enough to find us a hospital 25 minutes later, it looked like the bump had stabilized. We waited in the emergency room with a perfectly happy, bumpy-headed Carter. It wasn't until we took a picture of the clingon feature that he started crying again.
His vitals were fine, no concussion, internal bleeding or need for a CAT scan. He got a large helping of acetametaphine; they told us to watch for personality changes or vomiting.
Despite his temporary handsomeness handicap, Carter charmed the nurses. They laid before him a group of homemade stuffed animals and let him pick out a sweet little duckie. I've never seen him more pleased with a toy. And such a simple one, at that. He might even tell you it was worth bumping his head for. Betcha if he had two-word sentences down, it'd probably be something like Worth it.
two doctors in one day.
vote for a tough baby?