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A Pediatrician is not a foot doctor.

Zane had his 2nd apt. with the pediatrician on Friday and according to her, all is going well. She said he’s a good color. At first, I thought she was racist, but then I realized she was referring to his hue and not the fact that he’s caucasian. So that was good. I thought we were going to have to change doctors after only two visits. Anyway, Zane weighed in at 6 lbs, 10 oz. on Friday (10 oz. over his birth weight), but he’s probably up to 6 lbs. 13 oz. by now because he’s a really good eater (yet another similarity to his father). He’s gaining about an ounce a day. At that rate, I figure by March he’ll be in the heavyweight division for baby boxing. (Baby boxing . . . what an interesting idea . . . perhaps someone should pitch that to Michael Vick).

OK, back to the pediatrician thing. For some reason, I can never remember the word “pediatrician” when I’m telling people that we’re taking Zane to the doctor. It’s so embarrassing because I keep wanting to say “podiatrist”. Now I realize that a podiatrist is a foot doctor, but in the moment, for some reason, the word “pediatrician” just won’t come to me. It’s really weird. Perhaps down deep, I’m concerned that Zane actually needs an apt. with a podiatrist. Have you seen his feet? Proportionally, they’re like canoes at the bottom of broom sticks. And his big toe . . . yeesh!! You know when a cartoon character hits his thumb with a hammer and it swells up really big like a balloon and turns red. Well, take away the redness and that’s Zane’s big toe all the time.

OK . . . I’m exaggerating a bit (and I’m going to get in trouble for this post from Zane’s grandmothers), but seriously, he does have unusually big feet for an infant.

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