18 Months Old

Jonah turned 18 months old on Sunday. Thursday was Thanksgiving, and Michele and I know that we have much to be thankful for.

Here are the stats. Jonah is 33 1/2" tall and he weighs 23 lbs., 10 oz. That keeps him in string bean range, at 83rd and 20th percentile for height and weight, respectively. For anyone keeping track, he has doubled in length and tripled in mass since birth. Tall and thin is in, despite a food rampage over the past week. The photo here is from the night after Thanksgiving, where Jonah discovered the wondrous combination of ketchup and cranberry sauce. I just kept thinking, "brains, more brains".

I learned some interesting things at his 18-month "well baby" checkup. First, there is nothing wrong with harnessing Jonah's love for everbody's favorite tomatoey condiment to get him to eat his vegetables. In fact, Michele just informed me that tomorrow's lunch will include ketchup with brocolli -- a tasty treat that even Ronald Reagan would be proud to serve in school lunches.

Second, a flu vaccine needle looks really big and scary next to my 33 1/2 inch baby. Jonah was one brave dude, taking three shots in the thighs today. What must be going through his mind when he's pinned down by mom and dad on cold doctor's office butcher paper -- even before the first poke? Then after the first...and after the second...and after the third? The emotional scars of childhood!

Lastly, it really is important to wean your kid from his pacifier. Michele and I have had a love-hate affair with the "na-na's". Before he was born, we decided we didn't want to get him hooked. A nurse convinced us otherwise with a stern look as he wailed and wailed the first night of his life. I plead only partial guilt, since we were both sleepless and clueless. Anyways, our pediatrician convinced me today that the longer we wait, the harder it will get. Perhaps it's just been a fantasy that one day Jonah is just going to leave his pacifier on the floor somewhere and never turn back -- as one day he will leave home, parents strewn on the floor, and never turn back.