And He Keeps ... On ... Growing

Rex had his four month checkup today. It's official: he's a baby wonder, what with his gargantuan size and the creeping/crawling thing, and of course his legendary cuteness and winning personality. Our pediatrician got to call in the other doctors to brag about her patient - as if she's responsible for his talents - and they all shuffled past Rex in awe, like they were looking at Lenin's tomb or something. As if.

So Rexie had to get a couple of shots, which he wasn't thrilled about, but he handled it like a trooper. I actually think he was more pissed about the band-aid. When got home I realized he must have grown on the way back from the appointment, because I could not get him out of his clothes to change him. I repeat: I COULD NOT GET HIM OUT OF HIS CLOTHES. They had become hermetically sealed to his burgeoning body, which appeared to have expanded the way a pigeon's stomach puffs up when it eats too much wedding rice. It took me a long, long time to disrobe him. I contemplated getting the shoehorn, but I wasn't sure if it worked in reverse. I'll use it the next time I have to put his clothes on.