15 months

receptionist: hi! what can i do for you?

me: my baby has a doctor appointment with dr. brockbank, so i'm just checking him in.

receptionist: great! what is his first name?

me: smith.

receptionist: okay...(does something on her computer). what's your sons name?

me: smith...smith taylor.

receptionist: no, your sons name, not the doctors name that you're seeing today.

me: ...right...smith...he is seeing dr. brockbank.

receptionist: (looking confused) okay...and your son's first name?

me: *sign* yeah....it's smith...his first name is smith....smith....

receptionist: oh! oh my goodness i'm so sorry about that! (starts rambling about how she knows another baby named smith).

 weight: 25th percentile // height : 90th percentile.
aka: tall and skinny

i'll give the receptionist a break, she was new and was in the middle of training, and my babies name can be a bit confusing since it is technically a last name.

i feel for this little monster. the moment he saw the nurse, he started screaming.  that poor, sweet nurse is seen as the devil in smith's eyes.  no good comes from her, after all, she is the one that gives him his shots.

getting his weight, temperature, and height was too exhausting for smith, myself, and the wonderful devil nurse.  he screamed until he turned a shade of redish-purple, and giant tears were rolling down his checks so much that my shirt was saturated (i won't tell you about the snot coming from his nose).  finally, after the nurse was done with him and left the room, he calmed down and wanted to play.  we played peek-a-boo, "find your nose", and danced in the room until the dr. came in.  smith may or may not have shut down the room's computer, causing a big ol' fuss.

once the dr. came in, smith was all smiles and giggles.  the dr. played with him and even picked him up and stretched him to the ceiling just so smith could touch the light.

once the dr. left the room, the nurse came back in. as soon as she entered the room, smith glanced at the syringes in her hand and back to her. he tried to butter her up by playing peed-a-boo, waiving at her and saying "hi", and he even attempted to have her hold him.  he was stalling.  after a few moments of them playing together, the nurse said, "okay; lets put him on the table.  you're probably going to want to hold him down."  i'm sure you can fill in the rest.

the nice thing is, smith only cries when the nurses are in the room and, of course, during his shots.  right when the nurse leaves the room, he stops crying.  he then looked up at me with sad, tear-filled eyes and rosey checks and poked my nose and laughed.  i snuggle him just for reassurance that i do love him.