Holy cow, three months

Hello, blog, my name is Kim. I'm sure we've met before...

Baby L went for his 18-month checkup today. In a haze of sleep-deprivation, I missed the scheduled one last Wednesday (to be fair, they still had not updated our contact info--one year later--so I didn't get a reminder call), then called the office to reschedule and they offered me September. September! I got all Bryn Mawr on them, "No, that will be unacceptable since this is his 18-month checkup and he'll be significantly older than that in September, so what are you going to do to accommodate my child sooner?"

He's fine. He's average height and weight (25 pounds, 33 inches) and has a HUGE head. This makes me feel better since I've been moving him into 2T shirts that hang on him since I can't cram his huge head through the neck holes of his 18-month shirts. He says enough words according to the doctor, apparently, like mama and daddy and bread and doggie and rock, but I would like him to use more. They can't start talking fast enough for me. It's fine if he lives on bread, milk and fruit, as long as those foods are healthy.

Mr. A is graduating from preschool this week (sniff), a month earlier than anticipated due to the state of California's incredible budget deficit. He will be moving on to swim lessons and hopefully camp but oh boy, I will miss preschool. I just caught the end of the preschool ceremony, but got there in time to listen to the kids brainstorm what they would be doing in kindergarten. "Reading books!" "Writing!" "Problem-solving!" "Being principled!" "Following directions!" "Listening!" A raised his hand and then announced, "I would like to learn about octopuses, since they are soft and can't fight like sharks so they shoot their oil out so the sharks can't see and then they run away." I love that kid. Love him.