Seeing the doctor

Baby had her 6-month check-up today.  Previous doctor's visits have usually consisted of her being happy to be naked for the weigh-in and chortling at the doctor as she lay obediently on her back for the brief physical exam.

I got a sense that today was going to be different when I put her down on the examining table, and she promptly reached for the electric cord hanging above the table, and yanked it hard enough to pull it out of the socket a bit.  Okay...so I shifted her away from the cord and gave her a toy.

She glanced at the toy briefly, apparently decided it wasn't that interesting, threw it to one side, rolled over onto her tummy, and proceeded to shred the paper lining the examining table as quickly as possible, while also stuffing it into her mouth.

Okay...so, I sat her on my lap and we played with a different toy until the doctor came in.

Baby looked questioningly at the doctor--I'm pretty sure she would've raised one eyebrow if she could--he said, "Hi!", and she immediately began to SCREAM BLOODY MURDER.  We're talking mouth open as wide as possible, eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down bright red face, screaming.

The pediatrician danced in and out of her flailing limbs, quieted her for a necessary couple of seconds by jangling his keys so he could listen to her chest/heart, and then yelled to me over the noise, "WE'LL BE DOING THESE EXAMS AS QUICKLY AS POSSIBLE FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS OR SO--SEE YOU IN 3 MONTHS!"

He's a nice guy.

Wordless Wednesday: (nearly) 6 months later

Irony #3168

To the 5-month-olds of the world:  the following discrepancy has not escaped your parents' notice.  To wit, that though you are gleeful at the prospect of chewing on an old sock, your expression when lovingly spooned your first bite of farmer's market peaches--prepared and frozen for you at the height of the summer season--was nothing other than pure revulsion.  We are therefore considering the possibility of seasoning your next meal with pureed sock.  Just a warning.