There was also a decent amount of blather on the doctor's part about how great it is that I'm breastfeeding, such a good way to lay a foundation of good health, etc . I think that little pep talk was for the benefit of the medical student he had accompanying him that day. I agreed with him about the importance of breastfeeding, and then said "I still give Stella the occasional nip and she's almost five," and cut my eyes over to the medical student to see if I managed to shock her. Shoot, she was still smiling and nodding. Did you hear that, lady? ALMOST! FIVE! That's the problem with living in Madison; when everybody's doing weird hippie things you have to be truly hardcore to stand out.
After weighing and measuring, I received confirmation that Baby W is a very large baby. That's good, because even though we probably wouldn't have put him up for adoption if he were small, I'm glad we won't have to find out. And everybody knows being big -- specifically being tall -- is better than being short, and if you disagree with that you're probably one of those guys who claims they are six feet yet somehow stand eye to eye with me.