Fat baby

When I think of large babies I think of the huge, curly-haired, one-toothed baby I once babysat. She was screaming and arching her back the entire time. Her red face was a mystery of shiny mucous, with a wide mouth, eyelashes glued in lumps and body ridged. The only way I could console her was by holding her a very particular way and bouncing her in a clockwise circle. (Reversing the circle, or even slowing the rhythm would start the screaming again.) My poor arms endured that  for almost an hour until she fell asleep, leaving me feeling permanently lopsided and sore. I vowed then and there that I would never have big babies. (Like I had a choice.)

Fast forward about ten years and I give birth to my eight pounds, one ounce baby boy. I think to myself,  wonderful! that's a healthy size without being considered "large". Fast forward another two months and that little baby has ballooned to sixteen pounds! He's in the ninety-ninth percentile for his weight! People don't believe me when I tell them he's only two months old. The pediatrician had told us you cannot over feed your baby with breast milk. Really? Okay! I guess we're going with it!


Now you may be wondering how I've been taking all this, knowing my original feelings about fat babies. I'll tell you. I love it! He only gets cuter with each added roll and dimple! Obviously, he's my baby and he's a happy baby, so I think that helps. However, he's also way cuter, for sure. :)









The other great part? The extra weight doesn't stop him from flying around our apartment on a regular basis. See for yourself.