At Macy’s yesterday, an old woman called Alex fat.
She meant it in a good way. “He looks like he has a healthy appetite! I just hate seeing those skinny babies. He’s nice and fat.” The Old Lady was trying to be endearing, and I think trying to make conversation with me. Unfortunately for her, I neither found her comment endearing nor did I have any desire to chat with a stranger while I was attempting to shop with my squirmy son.
Also, he’s not fat. Babies are not fat. They are babies. They are chunky, chubby, nom-nom-nom-able. And, really, Alex…fat? Not a chance. He has chubby cheeks, but his belly? Muscle and skin. His thighs? No rolls. In fact, he only had a short period of time where he had a leg fat roll. Sure, he still doesn’t have ankles or wrists, but he’s not a fat baby.
I love me some chunky babies. Big ol’ bellies hanging out over their diapers, rolls upon rolls on thighs and arms and triple chins all make me smile. But by a few weeks of age, Alex had lost his multiple chins and chunky-monkey status.
This afternoon, Alex had his 15-month checkup. He has the same general stats as always: he’s pretty tall, and not very heavy for his height.
He is 33.75 inches tall, which is the 97th percentile for height. He weighs 24.7 pounds, which is the 50th percentile for weight. So, clearly, he is not a fat baby.
He’s a Godzilla Baby.