She ain't heavy, she's my daughter.

The results are in. She's been weighed, she's been measured. And at 2 (and 12 days) my "baby" is no baby any more.

Head circumference: 48.5 cm = 75th percentile

Weight: 31 lbs. 6 oz. = 90-95th percentile

Height: 36 in = just shy of 97th percentile. 

She grew 3 inches since we visited the doctor in May - Dr. Goebel's jaw dropped.

"Wow. She's a big girl!" The doctor said it, friends say it (after they try to put her down for a nap in a Pack 'n' Play and she won't fit) and perfect strangers say it all. the. time. Our doctor told me to anticipate people thinking she's older than she is and ordered me to "set them straight" about her age and "keep them in line" in regards to their expectations of her. She told me to work her age into the conversation so people know she's younger than she looks. It reminded me of a story from Brandon's childhood - she doesn't get her height from me :) He was about 18 months old and had put on a cape and jumped off the top bunk, a la Superman. Except he did less flying and more spraining his neck.

When his Mom took him to the doctor, he asked him all sorts of questions like "How did this happen, Brandon? How high were you jumping from? Tell me exactly where it hurts and how much." When Brandon sat there with a blank stare the doctor thought he must be concussed. "No," said Brenda. "He's a year and a half. Mama is about the extent of his talking." The doctor thought he was 4 years old! Last week my eye doctor thought Teagan was 4. What's that saying about apples falling from the tree?

She's predicted to be at least 5'9" when she grows up. So regardless of how many vegetables I eat, the best-case scenario is that my daughter will be half a foot taller than me. At least she'll be able to commiserate with her aunts - I don't have much in the way of advice or general thoughts on being tall. I don't pretend to know how hard it is to be tall as a child (this hasn't hit Teagan yet, but based on the Richards' family history, she'll be in the back row of her class photos) but here's at least one good thing about being a tall toddler: you'll have a lot more fun at Disneyland. At 3 feet tall, she'll be tall enough to ride a good portion of the rides. Whether she's mature enough to ride the rides is another issue.

Lest you think she's a beanpole, I will testify that she's a solid little thing if ever I hefted one. (I'll stop making remarks like that when baby fat stops being adorable.) Even in spite of the fact that she's taken to claiming she's "all done" after two minutes at the table, she must be getting some nourishment, because she's growing like a weed. I can't resist squeezing her thunder thighs when she's sitting on my hip - they're just. so. deliciously. squishy. (Sidenote: thank heaven for my sister-in-laws who pass on clothes from their really tall girls. We're in 3T already!) It's getting harder and harder to wrangle her these days, what with her being more than half my height and freakishly strong. If she wants to get down? She gets down.

I hope that regardless of how tall or short, thin or not-so-thin she ends up that she always feels beautiful. What a different world we'd be living in if girls always felt beautiful and had confidence in themselves. Until she can internalize it, I'll just have to keep telling her how beautiful she is. And how much she's hurting my back.