Yesterday we made the last specialty-clinic visit to rule out a zillion-and-one possible ailments that could account for Chickadee's tininess, other than the obvious problem that she will explain to anyone. "I was a hungry baby," she says patiently. "My mama no feed me."
She's fine. She's little, yes, but there are no genetic defects, no internal organ problems, no sign of FAS, no sign of other cognitive or developmental problems, no problems at all other than she is a wee little thing and that she speaks gerbil. We'll be seeing a speech therapist as apparently Dandy and I are the only two people who readily understand her unique mix of Russian and English. She has only four upper teeth (two molars and two canines), so her enunciation is a little odd.