My Naughty Little Boy!

I’m afraid my son may be a naughty one. . . 

Exhibit A: The first time I ever saw my son he was 11 weeks old. He was moving around so much they could hardly get a good measurement on him because he was shaking his arms and legs. He even did a flip in there!  Heartbeat was a speedy 184 that day due to all of his cardiovascular activity. I’ve decided this first impression could lead to one of two things.

1.       He will have hyperactivity disorder like his Grandpa John did as a child.

2.       He will be nationally ranked in vaulting/gymnastics like his Grandpa John was as a young man.

Either way, I’m blaming my dad for that one.

Exhibit B: All of the activity is NOT helping my ribs. After intense back and rib pain my physical therapist discovered one of my vertebrae is hypermobile and one of my ribs keeps popping out of place. These are in two different places of my back—lucky me! My rib dislocating was probably caused by the use of crutches over the summer. The fact that my rib refuses to stay in the right place is probably due to Poppy’s gymnastics. C’mon kid! I’m doing my best to make sure your ribs develop well. Could you do me a favor and look out for mine while you’re in there? Geez!

Exhibit C: You may note that I haven’t posted a picture of Poppy’s profile. That’s because he won’t show his face. In fact, we almost didn’t get to find out that he was a boy because he is breech. Now the doctors say he’ll probably flip by the time of delivery, but so far Poppy hasn’t seemed overly cooperative, so I’m not holding my breath. The ultrasound technician poked and prodded at him to show his face. He turned and faced my spine. She poked and prodded him again. He turned to face us—and put his hands over his face. She had me turn this way and that, continuing to push on him in the direction she wanted him to turn. Then, I kid you not, HE SHOOK HIS HEAD NO on the ultrasound monitor.  After telling this story at the Heath family Thanksgiving I got a resounding chorus of , “Yup! He’s a Heath boy!” from about six different people in the room. 

Now my husband is a calm, responsible man. He can have stubborn streaks once in a while, but for the most part he is compromising.

Naturally, I turned to him and said, “You’re not that bad. When did you mellow out?”

His dad took the opportunity to chime in, “When he was about 21 or 22.”

Chris nodded in agreement.

Oh BOY ! I think I’m in for it. . .

This is a picture of my baby’s naughty little stinker feet that are going to get him into all kinds of mischief some day: