Deployment Journal - Day #26

Today, we cleaned ourselves up and went to the doctor.  Little One still isn't eating solids very well, so we thought we'd consult our military-issued pediatrician, which is a mixed strategy if you want reassurance, since they usually ask at least 57 crazy questions about your child's developmental progress.

"When your child grasps a toy, does he/she use all five fingers, including the thumb?" -- She usually engages 8-9 fingers, combined, between both hands.  Sometimes she lifts her pinky finger, like she's drinking tea, but usually not her thumb...

"If your child hits his/her head accidentally, does it take less than 3 seconds for him/her to cry/react?" -- Uhm, maybe 4 seconds, on average?  3.5?  I haven't been timing it.  ... IS THAT BAD?!

"Does your child roll from back to front, and front to back, equally?" -- It's probably a 62/38 split, actually, in favor of her left side.  But only when she's hungry - if she needs a diaper change, it's closer to a 52/48 split, in favor of her right side -- if the moon is full.

These things will make you question your parenting skills, even if you're James Dobson.  Fortunately, our pediatrician is super relaxed.  We suspect he chuckles at the standardized questionnaires and mandatory schpeals,  too.  Thus, we like him.  

Today, though, Little One was clingy.  She's been this way ever since Daddy left.  Combine the natural Stranger Danger phase with the sudden absence of your favorite person ever, and you get a very whimpering little girl.  She resisted the nurses, sobbed while being weighed, and kicked when they tried to measure her length.  Normally the paradigm of cheerful friendliness, she glared at the technician, and hid her face in my neck, and wouldn't smile at anyone.

But then, Dr. T arrived.  He's great with kids.  "Hi, precious girl!"  He was all smiles and disarming body language.  She hesitantly emerged from my neck, and cautiously looked him up and down, assessing his uniform from boots to his chest rank.

A deeply confused look crossed her face, and she looked at me inquisitively.  "Dada?  Dada?"

Aww!  No, Darling.  He's not Dada.  They just wear the same clothes.  I know, so confusing.  Dada still lives in my cell phone, and in my laptop, remember?

It broke my heart a little.  

I'm glad she won't remember this incident.  She sure hasn't forgotten Dada, tho'.