Strap in!

Monday was the big day for Sophie's DOC Band.  We went in to have it "installed."  Really, it was to do all the test fitting, instruct us how to clean and care for it, and then send us home.

Last few pictures pre-helmet, practicing her walking around the doc's office.

An aside:  This kid has the best facial expressions.  She is always cracking us up with her funny faces.  Awesome.

Helmet goes on for the first time.  Sophie is clearly not pleased.

But it turns out to be not so bad.

"Hey, look, I've got a crash helmet!"

The helmet was off, then on, then off, then on.  They kept making little tweaks to the fit, then come back to give it a try.  Pretty soon she figured out the system, and knew what would happen when they walked back in with it.

Then her mean ol' dad made fun of her.

She is doing pretty well so far.  A few spots remain red after we take off the helmet for an hour, which we were told would likely mean another quick visit for some more adjustment.  We will see if that happens tomorrow.  Otherwise, she seems to be pretty much ignoring the thing.  I think it actually bothers her mother more than it does her.  But hey... you want a round headed kid, this is the only way to get one.

After tomorrow, Sophie has to wear it 23 hours a day for 15 weeks.  The timing of which is rather fortuitous, since our newly sprouted watermelon will take roughly 15 weeks to mature.  Perhaps we should consider making one of these?  Just as a comparison, of course.

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An anecdote from our first visit for the DOC band consultation, which I neglected to relay.

So we are in the room and the physical therapist / doc is going over Sophie's measurements and explaining the benefits of the DOC band.  I went into this visit somewhat skeptical that she really even needed one (are you surprised?) and expecting that they would have quite the pitch as to the benefits of a round head.  Sure enough, they did, rating Sophie as a severe and then listing all the possible things that this DOC band would solve.  One of which being that a bicycle helmet might not fit properly someday and therefore would not adequately protect her head in the event of a crash.

I think Paige could literally hear the muscles in my eyes straining to prevent them from involuntarily rolling.

At this point, I need to explain a little background.  I often reference the fact that while Levi and Noah's... uhhhhhh... persistent personalities may cause us great grief as parents attempting to navigate them through childhood, such persistence will be a valuable asset later in life.  Especially in their careers as Marines.  Or Navy Seals.  Or Green Berets.  Really, I'd be OK with any of those.  They just need to suppress it long enough to survive boot camp.  And at this point in the conversation, Paige always insists that I am not, I repeat not sending her little babies off to war.

Back to the doctors office.  Lady explaining bicycle helmets, blah, blah, blah.  Jason's eyes beginning to roll.  Paige sensing impending snarky comment from her husband lacking social skills.

So she attempted to turn the conversation toward a helmet I might be concerned about fitting...

"Or her Air Force helmet!" says Paige.

Ack!  Cough cough.... sputter... wheeze.  I get grief all the time for wanting my boys to serve their country, and then she goes and plops my 1 year old daughter into a fighter jet cockpit?!?!?  I'm still old fashioned enough to believe that if there is fighting to be done, it is the men who should be doing it.  Chivalry and such.  And now my wife has my daughter off fighting the war, while the boys sit home.

The Air Force helmet reasoning was less than convincing.  I just want a kid with a pretty shaped head...