Farfar arrived this afternoon. We weren’t able to get Molli to the airport to meet him, alas, but his joy was undiminished for having to wait an extra 20 minutes to make her acquaintance. The following picture was taken within seconds of his first taking her in his arms:
The next picture was taken once he’d had time to take his coat off and get cozy on the couch with her:
And then, as Trine and I spoke with visiting pediatric nurse Anne Greve, Farfar and Farmor got their first joint conference with “Kammer pige:”
I want to keep this short because I’m tired, but here’s the gist: Molli weighs 5 kilos (11 pounds), is smiling and almost laughing, and her weight puts her at the 50th percentile (ie, exactly average) for full-term babies of her age as calculated from due date. In other words, half of all babies born on August 20 weigh less than Molli Malou right now, and half weigh more. (I know the math is rough, but just replace half with 49.99999999% in both instances if you’re a real stickler.)
Anne reassured us on all the little niggling things that have been bugging us and told us how normal and healthy and big and strong and beautiful Molli was. It was nice to hear that projectile vomiting, rotating rashes, flying acne, extended shitlessness, and self-inflicted fingernail wounds were so ordinary.
That was short. It’s time for bed.
(Fem is Danish for five, so the title referred to Molli’s paternal grandfather and her current weight in kilos.)
