Mom and Dad took me to the "vet" this morning, and she wrote "Great Job" on my report card. My head is still in the 50th percentile, as I had been for height and weight also at my two week checkup. But today I'm in the 85th for height and the 97th for weight. The pediatrician said Mom must be making buttercream. Whatever Mom makes, it's delicious and I eat it with gusto. Sometimes I grunt and then launch myself at her to start eating. So what? A girl's gotta eat!
I was all relaxed on the table at the office and then wham! The two nice ladies counted to three and simultaneously stabbed me in each leg! Then the lady also stabbed me in the ear lobes. Worst day ever. I was smiling by the time we were driving home, though. Mommy sat in the back next to me and now I'm milking her for all the sympathy I can get.
Also, I'm trying my hardest to sit up, though I still need help. I'm also working on my vocoobulary, babbling whole phrases. I have a lot to say, and plan to be able to say it in at least three languages soon.
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