Shannon Phillips

So Davy had a check-in with the doctor today. He’s 31 and a half inches tall and weighs 21 pounds. Apparently he’s in the 70th percentile for height, and the eighth for weight. How? How is this possible? He eats all the time. Seriously. We took him to a party a few months ago, and I parked us beside the snack table, explaining to another gal there that Davy eats constantly. When we left a few hours later, she laughed: “I thought you were joking,” she said, “but he never stopped chewing this whole time.”

It’s a joke with Dave, the boys’ Pappy. He’ll cluck and pretend to shake his head every time he sees Davy reaching for a new source of food. “Don’t you ever feed that baby?” he says. It’s funny, you see, because we feed him constantly.

Anyway, the doctor seemed to think it was perfectly possible, and that Davy probably doesn’t have a tapeworm or anything, but is simply having a growth spurt. It’s true that he’s gotten a lot taller recently. He can wear some of Robins two-year-old clothes, even though he’s not yet eighteen months. Oh, and he walks now—not perfectly (it’s particularly hilarious when he gets a head of steam going and can’t quite figure out how to stop, so he simply wobbles around in circles until he eventually falls down), but well enough that he defaults to walking now rather than crawling. So I guess he’s doing something with all those calories he burns.