Today I took August to the doctor for his one-year checkup. At first, he was all sunshine and giggles.

But then one thing…

…led to another.

As his father, it is my duty to protect him from the ravages of unwholesome pestilence, but I wonder if hepatitis is really so much worse than the look of betrayal in the eyes of a suddenly disillusioned 12-month-old.

In more cheerful news, August is following his older siblings’ proud tradition of falling completely off the growth curve at the one-year mark.

For weight, he hovers well below the 3rd percentile, and for height, he’s at 25%.

As for his head, it’s in the 400th percentile. Or something like that. I can’t imagine what they’re going to call him on the playground.