When Felix was five days old, I took him with me down the road to buy some organic, grass-fed beef from our friend and neighbour Larry Slipp.  Larry keeps cows and chickens on his 1000+ acre farm, and he has a reputation in New Brunswick for having the highest quality meats around–for good reason.

I met Larry outside his barn, and he very sweetly admired Felix, saying that it has been a long time since a baby was born in Queenstown.  And then he asked me how much Felix weighed when he was born.  (At this point, I really need to clarify that I find that question offensive ONLY in the abstract, and as my own comment on cultural mores and conditioning–in no way was I in the *least* bit put off by Larry’s curiosity, nor am I  by anyone else when that question is posed.  I’m not scary!).  And of course, I had to say Well Larry, honestly, I have no idea!  To which Larry replied, Do you wanna right now?  And I grinned and said Yes! That would be great!  So we went into the barn, cleared off his meat scale, popped Felix on top, and there we go!

Since Felix’s birth, and since posting my saucy little treatise on babies and weight, I have heard lots of predictions on the subject of how big Felix is or isn’t.  Ten pounds! one lovely friend suggested.  That baby couldn’t weigh more than six pounds, a relative stated, decidedly.

It honestly hadn’t occurred to me to weigh Felix when he was born, because he was so clearly big, beautiful, hardy and very healthy.  But when Larry brought it up, I realized I was curious, (and also, something has to go on the birth certificate).  I’m kind of dying to tell you, but I suppose in order to maintain my high principles (ha), I should just keep it between me and Larry.  Suffice it to say that Felix is a big little guy, but we’re not getting too worked up about the details.