I make enormous children. That’s common knowledge.
There were times when Kendall was a baby that the nickname “meatball” suited him perfectly.
His measurements and percentiles from early pediatrician appointments read out like measurements for a square- 90%+ for weight, 50% for height.
Slowly the pudge started to melt just a bit, though we’d argue he still has the majority of those cheeks stuck to his face.
Now four years old, he’s a solid little boy. His visit to the pediatrician yesterday went wonderfully. He didn’t so much as whimper at the 4 shots he got (his pain tolerance sort of scares me). And, for the first time in as long as I can remember (meaning not including the first 3 months of his life), his weight AND his height are both in the 90th percentile- 47.6 lbs (97%) and 43 inches (91%).
The kid had a major growth spurt in the last year, which should at least explain why he NEVER STOPS EATING.
I remember in that first year we would sometimes question if we were doing something wrong, breastfeeding him too much (I was simply on demand, and he demanded it A LOT), were we wrong to let him eat all the bananas and clementines he requested? But then we’d laugh. Such nonsense! He was perfectly healthy, even if he was proportioned like a meatball.
I miss those pudgy belly rolls and “walrus arms” but it’s amazing to watch him growing up and transforming.
When the pediatrician asked what his favorite food was, he confidently replied “FRUIT!” and then told her we grow it in our garden. I’m pretty sure she thinks we prepped him with flashcards before walking in so he’d say all the right answers.
We’re just lucky she didn’t ask what his favorite drink was because I’m sure the answer would have been “SODA!” (So obviously a Texan transplant, raised by a half non-Texan set of parents because a true blue Texan child would just call it Coke.)
Kendall is 4 years and 2 months old