Princess puddinghead

Today at dinner, Liza declined to eat any of the quiche we were having (going so far as to scrape it off of her tongue when some of it accidentally got into her mouth), and she was only moderately interested in her sweet corn. But the chocolate pudding? Oh, yeah!

Looks like we don't have to worry about her missing out on any of those important pudding-y nutrients, like, um, calcium! Or anti-oxidants! Or sugar!

Not that I'm worried about her eating habits or anything. This is the kid whose idea of snack is about half of a Fig Newton and as many grapes as she can weasel out of us. Juice? eh. Milk? Just hand her the gallon jug and she'll be happy.

Liza had her 15-month checkup yesterday (as well as her next-to-last round of shots for a couple of years ... hooray!). She's right at the 50th percentile for weight, and she's off the chart for height (that's 33 1/2", in case you're wondering). The nurse looked surprised when she measured Liza, and she mentioned that usually you can tell how tall an adult will be by doubling their height on their 2nd birthday. "If she stops growing for the next nine months, she'll still be 5' 7" tall," the nurse said. "If she doesn't make 6', she's not trying hard enough," was my response.

Actually, I'd be happier if she ended up slightly smaller than I am (in oh-so-many dimensions). It would be nice if she could shop for pants without having to worry about how short they look on her, and I REALLY hope her feet stop growing when she gets to be a 10, because being a 10 1/2 or 11 pretty much sucks. So think small(er) thoughts for my baby, okay? We don't need anymore Amazon women in the family.