Today was the little mister’s yearly well visit with the pediatrician.  I hesitate to call it a “well” visit, because it is always a torturous experience.  Our doctor has a way of ending most well visits with the phrase “He/She’s Perfect”.  With Nicholas, I am pretty sure the only time she said it was the day he was born.  Early on, she was worried about his reflux.  Turns out he had pyloric stenosis requiring emergency surgery.  And allergies.  And sensitivities.  And he needed the pyloris reopened ten months later.  He pretty much didn’t eat for a year.  So now that he is three and finally growing, it was a relief to hear her say “He gained two pounds in the last year.  That was really good for him.”  Why does every compliment end with “for him”?  It’s like he’s forever labeled as less than average.  I know she means well, and to be perfectly honest, I say “for him” a lot, too.  It’s like I want other mom’s to understand how big of an accomplishment it is that he slept in his own bed.  Or stayed in a chair without a harness.  Or actually tasted the green bean.  Or took two steps with his socks off.  But just once, I’d like him to be good at something on someone else’s scale instead of his own little “special” measurements. …continue reading