Because I Know You're Dying to Know...
21 lbs. 25 inches, except that they measured her as 25.5 last time and I know she's taller now and they didn't stretch her out at all, so I'm gonna say 26 inches. So Shelli, um, you're good.
The pediatrician was annoyingly unenthusiastic, and made me feel like an obnoxiously overproud parent.
"Is she working on sitting up at all?"
"Oh, she sits on her own."
"Well, when she gets teeth-"
"She already has two."
"Well, make sure she gets enough tummy time."
"Oh yeah, she prefers to be on her tummy, and is starting to crawl."
She admonished us to get rid of the night feedings and to make sure she keeps eating "the cereals" if we're not going to feed her meat so that she gets enough iron. Whatever. I'll make more of a point of getting the other doctors when we schedule the next appointments.
The new social worker was fine. We stayed up too late last night cleaning, and she didn't even look at the house. Ugh. But she's going to have to, so we have to make sure the house is spotless for the next two visits, too. She can mostly use the information from the first home study, which is good. There are a few new clearances and forms that need to be done, but hopefully not much to be redone. We have to fill out a form about the birthmother and tell whether or not she used drugs, etc., but we don't have to fill out the part for birth father. Isn't that nice of them?