A Friday night date with my man and my little (big!) man

W visited the pediatrician recently, for what was supposed to be a 6-week visit but ended up being a 7-week visit. As I think I mentioned before, pediatricians (neonatologists) attend births in Mexico, receiving their own patients from day one. This means it's not uncommon to have your ped appointments canceled due to someone else's new arrival. And of course I won't complain about that — I am sure a few people had to rearrange their schedules thanks to our birth day!

Anyway, my suspicions about my babe's size were confirmed. At 7 weeks, he weighed 12.5 lbs and was almost 23 inches long. This placed him above the 90th percentile on the CDC growth chart (for formula- and breastfed boys) and literally off the charts for the WHO growth chart for breastfed boys. Not to be one of those braggy moms, but the doctoralso said he was very strong and had the social and neurological responses of a three month old. This is based, of course, on that super high-tech exam where she moved a ringing bell around in front of his face and he followed it with his eyes.

Bragging aside, it has been SO amazing to see his progress over the past few weeks. He has gone from that darling blobby newborn stage to a real little boy who makes eye contact, smiles and can't get enough of looking at the exciting world around him.

W is in his three-month clothes at this point. Of course he is looking awesome in his little outfits but it makes me a bit sad to see him move into big-boy clothes. We went shopping and picked out some adorable khakis and jeans, but I am not giving up yet on his footy sweatpants and adorably effeminate little baby sweaters.