2 month check up

It's hard to believe, but Monkey is already two months old!! At his checkup on Friday he weighed 10lbs, 4 oz, which keeps him in the 10th percentile but progressing right on schedule. As a benchmark, he is still smaller than Aunt M when she was born. He is 21 inches long now, which drops him down to the 3rd percentile for height. Yes, he is a shorty, but he still grew a full inch from last month. Our brilliant physician was very impressed with how well he is doing developmentally. He did a great job of tracking her movements with his eyes, cooed and gurgled and carried on a whole conversation with her, wowed her with his head control and demonstrated his amazing ability to stand up (with assistance). He's getting a lot more control over his hands now and can almost always get them in his mouth when he wants them. He is a master at scooting himself in a counter-clockwise circle when he's on his back, and holds his head up and pushes with his feet when he's on his tummy. No one at the zoo will be surprised if he is crawling in the near future. He's got places to go, that's for sure.

The doctor increased his acid reflux medication to accommodate his weight gain, so we hope that he continues to improve. We've seen a difference in the amount of spitting up and he has been eating and sleeping better. Unfortunately, this week we began a new bedtime ritual of screaming from 8:00-9:30. There's a brief break in the action when he takes his bath, which miraculously involves smiling and playing. He is a swimming master and has been studying Michael Phelp's techniques. In the bathtub, he floats himself until he can put his feet on the infant seat and pushes against it while he works his arms. He's obviously working on his flip turns and Olympic gold can not be far behind. In the pool today at Grandpa Terry's house he even got a few dog paddles in, complete with kicking.

Enough with the wordy update. We know what you really came here for:

A rare sighting of the amphibious Mr. Zookeeper

We're ready for some football!
You know, the kind you watch with your eyes closed.

That's Mr. Gusto to you, punk.