Husband took The Boy to the doctor yesterday, to see about his ears. He said the doctor's office was packed, and The Boy was the only kid there that didn't have the flu. Which means that Husband and The Boy spent two hours sitting in a room full of flu germs. Let's see where that leads, shall we?
But that's not what I'm posting about - I'm posting because while The Boy was at the doctor's getting his ears checked (double ear infections, week of pink stuff) he got weighed and measured. And since I don't know where his baby book is, I need to record his stats somewhere - and this is it.
At 6 years two months, The Boy is 48 inches tall and weighs 62 pounds. Yes, that puts him in the 99th percentile for height and (despite being a lanky thing) off the chart for weight.
He's so big, it's easy to forget that he's little. But every night, I tuck him in and give him five quick kisses on the cheek. He calls them "The Kissy Express". Then he gets one big kiss, which is the "Kissy Caboose". According to The Boy, The Kissy Express tells him stories. Tonight he told me, "The Kissy Express never lets me down." And I remember that he's still just a little boy, no matter how big he is.