The Things I Say

Sometimes, when MOM asks me what I want for lunch, I tell her I want cookies. She looks at me like I've just told the biggest joke ever and says, "No way, man. You can't have cookies for lunch, you silly boy."

Now, whenever MOM tells me to do something I don't want to, I tell her ever so matter of factly, "No way."

Somehow, MOM and daddy don't think it's too funny.

MOM says, "Say, 'no ma'am."

To which I reply, "No, man."

She doesn't know if I am mispronouncing "ma'am" (probably...hopefully) of if I'm blowing her off and saying, "no man." I'll never tell.

Off The Charts

I went to the doctor for my 9-month appointment last week. Apparently, I am living up to my nickname, "Tiny." Weighing in at less than 16 lbs., I have officially fallen off of the CDC growth chart for little girls. The nurse said she didn't think I'm "failure to thrive," rather that I'm just small (hence the nickname "Tiny"). That being said, she and mommy started brainstorming different ways to put some meat on my petite little bones. In addition to the usual fattening suspects (avocado, cheese, etc.) the nurse suggested mommy give me some meatloaf with cheddar cheese added into it. Upon hearing this, Gran chimed in that she bet I'd like meatballs. That night, mommy, daddy, Thatcher, and I went out to dinner at Pulcinella's. I gobbled up a jar of apricot banana oatmeal and seemed to be interested in something more, so mommy cut up some of Thatcher's meatball for me. I have one word for you: HEAVEN. Why have you people been holding out on me?

In other news, I'm standing on my own. I desperately want to walk but refuse to let anyone help me with it. I'll do it myself or not at all. Holding someone's hands is for babies.

Oh, I've also started clucking...or quacking...depending on the day.