Ah, Eamon Wolfe.
9 months. (Except that he's almost 10 months old already...our doctor was sick last time so we had to reschedule the appointment that was actually closer to the 9 month mark).
My mother had to take him, because Aaron and I were working and used up most of our days off doing the closing/moving thing.
The doctor was running an hour late.
Eamon got bored.
So the doctor's visit was a little interesting, according to my poor mother. Apparently, he spent most of his time shrieking (his happy shriek, because he was so excited to see all those other babies), trying to kiss the other babies, trying to crawl around the floor and eat everything, grabbing at the doctor's stethoscope, trying to roll off the table, and just generally being a really active boy.
So no one is too surprised that even though his height stayed in the 90th percentile (30 1/4 inches), his weight has plummeted down to the 50th percentile range (21 pounds 2 ounces).
I personally don't know how he keeps any calories.
I get tired just watching him.
But gee, he's a lot of fun, even if he never does stop moving.