I Thrive!
Hear me world: I thrive, I am alive!
On this Tuesday I had an appointment with qualified medical professionals who carefully assessed me at 10 days old and diagnosed me with the succinct statement: “He thrives”.
For this most satisfying of honors I must give credit to my ever-toiling mother who has stood by me all the way, feeding me every several hours whether I wanted it or not. I could not have achieved this great accomplishment by myself, and am indebted in great measure to her in this regard.
And what does “thriving” mean, exactly? In precise numbers it means that I was born at a strapping weight of 9 pounds and 11 ounces. As befits a new person of my station (i.e. “newborn”) I lost some weight during my first few days and reached a nadir of 9 pounds 3 ounces. If such a trajectory had continued I would currently be on my way to becoming a smallish figment of a child about to disappear into the ether. Instead, dining on a steady milk supply, I have rebounded in miraculous fashion to tip the scales at 9 pounds 15 ounces, one ounce shy of ten pounds!
I’m not very good at my multiplication tables as of yet, but I begin to worry that ten pounds in ten days could indicate that I shall proceed to gain a pound per day ad infinitum. I must needs consult with father on this point, as I do not relish the prospect of reaching 365 pounds at the threshhold of my first birthday!
One final note, if I may gloat over one additional achievement, I have revealed my fresh bellybutton as of this very morning. I have no idea what use this new “button” on my belly will provide for me, but I am more than ready to find out. Perhaps it will produce some variety of candied treats when pressed? I must investigate. . .