Colson Chronicles: Fat and Fabulous

Fatness never looked so fabulous. At nine months, Colson (and his chub) are soaring - at least according to the World Health Organization growth chart weilded by our affable family doctor. Quick sideline-So even our American pediatricians have surrendered our health soverignty to the encroaching WHO arm of the United Nations!?  Is nothing sacred anymore? Not even my infant's head circumference?! Outraged Sigh.

 

Back to King Cole. He's long in length (28") and large(ish) in mass (20.5lbs).  He loves, loves, loves water- Ocean, Pool or Bath. He fears nothing- not even my reproach- since he is prone to spitting distasteful food back in my reproachful face.  Ahh, the liberties of the young.  Colson not only takes license with his food but also with his intestinal habits. Nary a week goes by without at least three expolosive "BMs" that require bath treatments. Too much information? Only if you're not a parent. Otherwise, this is as benign as a weather forecast. 

 

He also loves- no adores- his brother and sister. Kincaid will sit upon him, shove him over and steal his beloved paci -behavior for which Colson will reward Caid with a beaming, drooling, sloppy grin. So great is his affection.  And Eowyn. Well, suffice to say-most days- she would have been a better mother to him. I exaggerate. . . a bit.

 

 

Colson does not crawl, well. He can muddle and wiggle about and yet his relative immobility pleases me greatly since it buys me more time with my sanity. He boasts six gleaming teeth and eyes in which you want to drown. Totally lacking judgement, his smile is generously proffered to the creeper and the non-creeper alike.  He is vocal- often and quiet- rarely. We love him immensely, foolishly, tirelessly which is why I refuse to lose him to the third child abyss of anonymity.