Well, I have about four things I want to write about tonight. So I had to decide between talking about Steve Blow's column in today's paper, thoughts about the first girl's beach trip, nostalgia from scanning high school photos, and my fat baby. The fat baby won.
Alex normally sleeps in footed pajamas. I know that sounds crazy since the LOW temperature has been hovering around 80 degrees, but Alex's room is really small with a big ceiling fan plus the A/C blows just about directly on his crib. But upon bringing him upstairs to put to bed (late) tonight at about 8:45, the thermostat was reading 80 degrees even though the A/C was set to 74. I just couldn't bring myself to zip him up in those jammies, especially since he was comfortably in just a diaper after having a nice cool bath downstairs. Remembering that I'd received some hand-me-down shorts jammies from the Ohio cousins, I dug through the drawers only to realize that 12 month size Carters (fitting 20-23 lbs) won't work with my 8-month old 25 lb guy (confirmed today on the in-law's scales). After a little more digging I found some of Grace's old 18 month size Carters (gender neutral, of course). But apparently the 24-26 lbs of other babies is not packed in the belly and massive thighs like on my son. The shorts were sucking up into his thigh folds much like Homer Simpson's Speedo did up his butt. I finally gave up on pajamas and put him in Grace's just grown out of Rangers shirt (size 2T) and diaper. Of course the shirt fits him like he could just wear it with shorts tomorrow. What a tank.
No comments:
Post a Comment