Happy St. Pats

For St. Patrick's Day, Babe-O wasn't allowed to have any beer, but we did let her have a shot – a vaccination, that is (badda bing!)

Because of our spaced-out vaccination schedule, today she just needed two vaccinations, one was an injection, the other the sugary liquid stuff that seems to go down pretty easy.

Anyway, I was so stinking proud of my girl. First of all, she was playing like a maniac while we waited for the doctor to come in. She sat on the table with just her diaper on and just beat the hell out of a few of her toys, making noise and generally enjoying herself.

Her measurements were all good – she's in about the bottom 15 percent of the growth curve for height and weight and around the top 30 percent in terms of head circumference, which as far as I can tell translates to a girl that is somewhat petite yet biologically brilliant. An in terms of the size thing, I am told that I never actually clawed my way onto the growth curve at all, so I'm not worried about her size.

After getting the measurements done and talking with the doctor for a bit, it was time for the shot. She was such a tough guy. The nurse jabbed her, she shouted out (no tears), was upset for about five seconds, and then snapped right out of it – "yes that hurt, yes I'm okay."

After that, we were at the front desk making her next appointment and Babe-O charmed the hell out of the nurses there. One of them said her name and she immediately spun her head around to see who was speaking to her. She was in a generally good mood and made everyone happy that she encountered.

Once we were back out in the sunshine, we headed up to the grocery store where my wonderful wife treated me to a four-pack of Guinness and Babe-O and I got to hang out in the store for a while, which she usually enjoys. Back at home, we took a family walk before bath and bed. It was a great, laid-back St. Patrick's Day.

(Speaking of Saint Patrick's Day, on the way to the baby doctor at about 4:00 in the afternoon, I drove down the main drag, looking at all of the revelers outside of the bars downtown. It wasn't sexy. It takes a special kind of lady to have the ability and inclination to drink all day long. Typically, she isn't a pretty sight, especially after a few hours pickling. Yectch!)