Jeff and I are big headed people. Not quite bobbleheads but not entirely out of range. My head looks deceptively larger than Jeff's, and Jeff loves to tease me about it with malicious glee. But when we first started dating, we measured our heads with a tape ruler, and we both know that Jeff's is larger by two inches. Mine's only flatter while Jeff's is long.
So when we were expecting, we were of course anticipating a baby with a large head -- both in terms of width and depth. We worried about it a bit before the due date and prayed that the little guy wouldn't be too ripe. When the doctor decided to induce me nine days early, we were relieved.
When we visited the pediatrician for our one month check-up in early November, the little guy measured at 75th percentile in terms of height and weight. We were happy to learn that he was proportional.
When they measured the head, though, we found out that he was only in the 25th percentile in terms of head circumference. You would think we would have been relieved to have spared our child our lop-sided fate. Instead, our immediate reaction was to worry. Oh, no, how could his head be so small? Is something wrong? Is his brain developing properly?
We've obviously entered the realm of worrying because we can.
The doctor told us all was fine as he looked up to gaze at our heads. He seemed assured that it'll take more than one generation for our clan to join the ranks of the cranium challenged.