Weight, Weight, Don't Tell Me

I went in for my "two-month" checkup last week. I use quotes because it was actually more than 10 weeks after I was born. Doc says I'm doing great.

It's not really news, but the scale confirmed that I'm a champion eater. I could probably hit the infant competitive eating circuit if they had a breast milk category. Joey Chestnut and Kobayashi had better watch out. I'm like Chestnut and Kobayashi combined into one.

I am thinking about what's for dinner.

Anyway, the scale says I'm 15 pounds, 3.6 ounces. At 10 weeks, that's huge. Like 95th percentile huge. I'm heavier than Mom and Dad each were at 3 months. My head circumference and length are not so huge, like 50th percentile. This means I'm chunky and healthy. At this age, it also means I'm cute, if I may say so myself.

Is this a doctor's office or a butcher shop?

I can't do too much about the length. Mom and Dad aren't exactly the tallest people around, so I guess I'm lucky if I can stay at the 50th percentile there. Dad says he's going to take me running as soon as I can run, so don't worry about those extra pounds too much.