tall as a perfect hand is high

Yup. You knew it was coming. But it's true. Isla is twenty-nine inches tall (link is here if you don't feel like working that one out yourself. It is Friday, after all). Twenty-nine is a lot of things, but the best of them is currently in her crib*, quietly sleeping off last night's three hour jam session.

Our girl le deuxième has been off her game just a bit over these last days, but it is to be expected after her last check-up. Thirteen months and ten days after she was born, Isla had her first and only 1-year-well-visit. It was an informative visit for the we-the-parents and an unhappy one for the poor girl who once again endured five needles in the short span of two minutes. She really, really screamed this time. Really.**

Despite the horror of those long needles (which appear to be long enough to actually go through her tiny legs), our sweet one year old is doing great, standing tall and weighing a slight nineteen pounds. Heavy enough to wear your arm out after a short hike but not quite heavy enough to flip that car seat around. ***

The pediatrician did say she is the cutest one year old Isla in the entire state of Georgia, though, and that's enough for us. Ok, she didn't really say that, but we-the-parents are certain she was thinking it. Because we sure are.

Cute: 189 ounces fuller (that's 11.7 pounds) and 9 inches higher than her debut.

Isla eating her first french fry. It came from Five Guys Burgers and she thought it (and all those she tasted after), was delicious.
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*crib ... get it?

**Random thoughts: How do they honestly expect a child to be calm when they are jamming so many sharp things, filled with burning liquid no less, into their little bodies? And it seems remiss not to somehow protest the sheer length of those things. The needles could honestly go straight through a baby's leg. Isn't some agency supervising this kind of thing? What do we pay our government for anyway?

***Of course we aren't dreaming of relieving this tiny girl from the terrible plight of facing backwards when everyone else in the car is seeing life from the other direction. Because, really, what kind of parents would we be if we were thinking of doing that. We wouldn't even ponder it for a moment, the recommendation, I mean, since it's not law or anything. We wouldn't. And that is totally because we are such great parents who never, ever, ever mind the blood-curdling screams coming from the back seat when we're driving somewhere tedious after a year of no sleep.