At an Impasse

If I don't make eye contact, Mom won't see me chewing on this chair.

Today Martin went for his nine month checkup. He was poked and prodded and in the end came away with a pretty good report. He weighed in at 18'6", which puts him in the dainty 25th percentile. Not a sumo wrestler, but not a waif either. He was 26 1/2" tall, which was good enough for just the 10th percentile. So he won't be an NBA star. Fine, he didn't like the new dress code, anyway. His best stat of the day came with his head - in true Roach and D'Andrea form, he has a giant noggin. In fact, his head circumference is bigger than 65% of all babies his age. Way to go, Mr. Potato Head.

The doctor and I talked about the fact that Martin and I find ourselves at an impasse, since he still can't move himself at all. Sure, he can spin 360 degrees in either direction when sitting on the floor, but he can't move forward or backwards a single centimeter. "But watch how he practically skips around while holding onto my hands" I said, but she was not impressed. She also wasn't impressed with my story of how Martin hates being on his stomach and doesn't seem the least bit interested in crawling. "He just yells and cries when he's on his tummy," I said, but she was not phased. She told me it's time for some tough love and an excersice regimen of 30 minutes of tummy time per day. I wonder if she wants to spend the rest of the day with him after these exercise sessions, because I sure won't.

In other news, I managed to take a picture of his new teeth. Check them out! You'll have to click on the picture to really get a good look. They're there, I promise.

Chomp, chomp y'all.