It’s official:  JJ’s a toddler.  He’s got the shots; he’s got the ‘tude; Lord, help us all.

Yesterday we went in for JJ’s 12-15 month Well-Child appointment, but because we’re one of “those” families, we went in a) when he wasn’t well and 2) when he is almost 20 months.  We’ve had the same doctor and same nurse ever since he was a wee little munchkin bouncing off my bladder and jabbing his pencil-feet into my ribs.  Nurse Kelli kept exclaiming how big he’s gotten – very true, especially when looking at the percentiles:

• 29 lbs – 75th percentile
• 32 inches – 35th percentile (quite a drop, but he’s been a shorty since they started taking his height while standing up)
• 20 inch cranium – over 100th percentile (Dr. Tami was kind and said he was growing lots of brains; I told her realistically he was growing padding for the inevitable bounty of upcoming concusions, one of which he almost experienced today while coming out of the nursery and being hit by a tot-on-turbo and then bouncing of a couple of cabinets)

She asked if we had any concerns which were the usual:  dry skin, “discerning” food tastes (i.e. eats oatmeal, boca burgers, multigrain eggos, and organic fruit bars . .  . and that’s it), freaky toenails, and a lack of “intelligible” words (he has his required 15-20 words, if you count that he’s said a word once).  God bless our wonderful doctor who has kids of her own – she patiently listened to my neurotic little picky things (freaky toenails?  Who cares about freaky toenails?) and offered wonderful advice – sauteeing tofu, making tofu fruit smoothies, try carrots for veggies, eat fruit yogurt.  And then she sent Nurse Kelli back in for The Dreaded Shots.

See, since he’d been sick, I assumed we would be shot-free this time, coming to the clinic later.  But that was a no-go.  I’ve been dreading these shots:  Dad swears that babies get these, and toddler-hood comes on FULL FORCE – no going back.  I’m an excellent procrastinator in all realms:  organizing financial papers, getting an oil change, packing away outgrown JJ clothes, and looking down the road with a road sign bearing “Warning:  Terrible Twos Ahead.”  But with Dr. Tami’s help, Nurse Kelli loaded us in the car and sent us barreling ahead, and I’m not sure the e-break works.

JJ jerked.  And turned red.  And wailed:  it was all very sad.  But nothing that three Elmo (a.k.a. KEE KEE) stickers and a Curious George sticker couldn’t fix.  Until we got in the car, in which was the amount of time it took for the nasty toxins to start their work.  Stickers went flying on the floor, arms went flailing, and the yelling – oh, the yelling.  It continued on and off during the day.

And then there’s today . . . which for JJ started a good 2 hours early at the time of 6:45 when I was just throwing on my shoes to head out for my morning walk.  It continued at Chapters when he was told “not for JJ!” one too many times (and in front of one of our friends who works at Freddies who couldn’t believe that “our baby” had the ability to make such noises – HA!) and peaked in the nursery with a “dragging the dead-weight child into the room and throwing the door closed so that he might whang his whole weight against the door and yell loud enough to scare the poor solitary nursery worker” move.  Poor Winnie:  she was in shock – “where’s the darling baby?”  Good question, Winnie – I wonder the same thing.

Though one answer did come when I picked him up.  Grandma Maribeth (our beloved, of course) came out just to say, “I don’t like to brag, but he did calm down once I got here.”  Well, OF COURSE HE DID!  Why hadn’t I thought of that?  Maribeth makes *everything* better.  Now I just need to figure out how to bottle her essence, spray it on me in the morning, and ask the doctor if I can get a refund on these “helpful” shots – if this keeps up, I don’t think they really help extend life expectancy of either child or mother.

JJ Jawings