Little baby buddha

I guess many expecting women daydream about what their unborn baby is going to look like. I was particularly obsessed about it for the obvious reason that one half of my baby’s biology was largely unknown to me. By the time Finn was ready to be born I had largely made peace with this and had convinced myself, from the little I had to go by, that our son would be just beautiful.

A mini Danny Devito
And, of course, he is. But now that Finn is five months old, the man I thought he'd grow into and where he seems to be headed are somewhat diverging. Let's just say... we were hoping for Johnny Depp and it looks like we landed Danny de Vito.

I blame the formula. Things were going swimmingly while the little fellow was gulping back my questionable supply of breastmilk. Our lithe son with his mop of thick dark hair and big brooding eyes hovered around the 45th percentile of weight while I was breastfeeding. But now that I'm back at work and Finn's hit the bottle, he's packed on Michelin man proportions of fat shooting him up to the 80th percentile.

He's simultaneously lost all his hair. Roxi calls him Slumpty Dumpty (it's hard to prop up such a heavy head). He’s so fat he got jammed in his lumo green bumbo just this morning. I tried lifting him out of it but his porky legs got wedged. I had to kind of slide him out at an angle to free him.

On top of this, his Shar Pei puppy folds have caused him a rash. We try to air him when we can but the baby skin hidden in the depths of his rolls have become red from lack of light and fresh air.

Mine and Roxi's bodies are broken by his weight. I limp into his bedroom each morning and heave him out of his cot. He's a dead weight in my arms. As much as I love to cuddle our Bug, my back is in a constant state of pain. Roxi, whose upper body strength is more impressive than mine, feels the same. We worry about how we're going to keep carrying him into next week.

Little Buddha
Despite Finn's alarming body size I am delighted with the personality changes that have accompanied the physical ones. While on breastmilk he was a tortured soul, highly sensitive and prone to intense displays of misery. On formula he’s turned into a jolly baby full of gurgles and grins. When you're five-month-old-Finn, everything's a laugh. He smiles broadly at all who smile first, including his monkey, giraffe and bee.

Having never done this parenting thing before I sometimes have to go on what I read. In this case I believe that once Finn starts crawling he will lose his rolls. And with them allow a return to my fantasy of our boy growing up into a tall, dark and handsome pianist or poet instead of a squat and neckless scrumhalf... or good ol' Danny de Vito.

Are you having chubby baby problems? Share your stories in the comment box below.