We took Peanut for her one year check up today. All is well. She is in the 25th percentile for weight, 75th for height and 90th for head size (we are a big-headed people.)
The husband and I were slightly surprised by the weight (20 lbs. 3 oz.). She's got a baby equivalent of a beer belly and her wrists still look like they have rubber bands on them. Plus, it always looks like she's storing something in her cheeks. (To the 16-year-old Peanut reading this, momma is NOT saying you were fat. You totally pulled this look off and looked adorable.)
He did say we shouldn't let her graze and that she needs to understand that mealtime means eating together. To that, I say pfft. If she eats better during some meals because she's walking around, I'm OK with that.
A barn in our living room has mooed at us four times tonight. We aren't touching it and it's beginning to freak me out. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up with a tiny Little People cow sitting on my head.
I always had a very real fear as a child that my dolls would do bad things to me in my sleep. I would sleep with all my stuffed animals because I didn't want to offend any of them. I blame Chucky.
I must go get Peanut's 1 year pictures taken this weekend or my mother is going to turn me into Children's Services. We've had mixed results with photo shoots so I'm a little anxious.
The other night we asked Peanut if she was hungry. She walked over to her high chair and began pounding on it. Later that night, we asked her if she wanted to take a bath. She walked over to the staircase and began crawling right up them, something neither the husband nor I had seen her do.
I'm going to go out on a limb and say her language comprehension is developing.
Peanut has almost completely dropped "momma" from her vocabulary. All day, I hear "dada, dada, dada, dada" I have to beg her to say "momma." Sometimes she replies "dada."
She already has her father's sense of humor.