take that, autism!
It's official: after the Stafnord specialist's diagnosis (well, after a series of 5 specialists including an Irish social worker, a dancing bear, a developmental specialist, a physical therapist and a trained monkey with a toy piano -- actually, I was lying about the bear and the monkey), it can finally be said, with a *final* degree of certitude, that Mr. L does not have autism.
He came through like a champ.
However, he is still BabyZilla (although not his prom date Maggie's size... that's just freakin HUGE... ok, let's just call him Jr. Zilla). Still 90-95% for both height and weight. The developmental specialist called him "the heaviest thing on the face of the earth." Big words to live up to. However, the adjective the other specialist used to describe him was "flabby".
I believe this gives me full license as a father to call him "fatty" or "fatso". Or at least come up with some version Baby Boot Camp.
Celebrations are in order...