The Dots on the Nose phase is ending.
The Peeling phase is peaking.
The Baby Acne phase looks to be gearing up. (We'll spare him the indignity of the chin shot.)
G had his two-week checkup today with the pediatrician. His findings, in three quotations:
"Well, you've absolutely trashed the regain birthweight rule."
(G was an awesome half pound over his birthweight at this morning's appointment. (You may give my bosoms a metaphorical high five now.)) (Please do not attempt to give them an actual high five.) (It might get awkward.) (For you, I mean, because they have no palms.)
(I don't embarrass easily.)
"Who did the bris? This penis looks perfect."
(Seriously, why aren't you blogging? You gain friends, improve your writing skills, and legitimize the typing of such sentences.) (Also, remember acne chin? Ditto with the indignity and lack of photo sentiment.)
"Are you sure this is your kid? He isn't annoying me."
(And now you can begin to know just how much I love our pediatrician. He says things like that.)
So: two weeks old! I love this little monster that's sleeping on my shoulder.
Even though as soon as we got home from the doctor he pooped so dramatically that I had to wash his hair. (But wasn't he considerate to wait until after his weigh-in?)
Mmm, babies. He's cleaned up now, so he's once again delicious.