And They Call Him Mr. Chunk

Truman and I consulted with a healthcare professional the other day. The woman greeted Truman with, "Well hello there, Mr. Chunk." We were both a little offended! He's a healthy 12 pounds as he hits the two-month mark, but we'll get the official weight on Monday when he goes back to the doctor.

(Meanwhile we've been weighing him after hours at the local post office up the street. Seriously. All you have to do is put him on the scale—using a blanket, of course, to ward off any postal germs—and go through the menu about non-hazardous, perishable, etc. contents, and then wait for the scale to calculate his weight. Truman takes it all in stride.)