One tough son of a gun (sort of)

Hunter had his 18-month checkup today. Everything went smoothly, and his stats are so close to Wilder's at the same age, that I now know I should go ahead and start a savings plan solely for things like bread, milk and whatever else it is that teenage boys consume with wild abandon to make them grow and help their frontal lobes develop into something resembling a non-window-licking individual. Anyway, here they are -- I record these only for us. No one else cares, but I like to remember how giant my babies are, so that when I'm 75 and my back aches and they don't visit me, I can remind them how I carted their mutantly huge heinies around for a few years. You know, load my mama barrels up with guilt-trip and fire away.

So:

WEIGHT: 27 lbs, 11.5 oz.
HEIGHT: 34.5 inches
HEAD CIRCUMFERENCE (I have NO idea why we note this): 49 cm

Anyway, the best part of the doctor story is when Hunter got his shots. The office was unusually busy and backed up today, so we had to wait a fair amount of time, and after the doctor came in, it was probably another 20 minutes before the nurse came in with the flu shot and three other vaccinations. Of course, the waiting was hurting. I hate knowing that my kid's about to go through some serious pain, and I was anxious to get it over with.

So the nurse comes in and, as always, asks me to hold my kids arms and hold him down. I hate it, too, when they basically ask me to be their heavy. I know it's impractical, but I wish doctor's offices would employ someone else to do this. Anyway, I've got him pinned and she picks up the first needle and sticks it into his thigh ...

Hunter looks at me like: "What the hell?" but does not cry. Second needle ...

Another look, this one says: "Dammit now! That HURT!!" Still no tears. Third needle ...

The boy just turns a bright shade of red and his eyes go wide. I think he's more pissed than in pain. Fourth needle ...

"Whhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The tears finally come, but c'mon! My kid is pretty friggin' tough, no? I mean, jabbed three times and nothing but righteous indignation? That's some seriously thick skin!

So, here's the kicker. On our way out, Hunter wants to walk instead of being held. He's still wimpering a little, but mostly over it. Until we pass the doctor. When he sees her, he affects a limp. I mean, it's so obvious he's faking it, it's comical. The doctor notices it and calls him a drama queen.

So much for the stoic reputation, little dude.