Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News...

This afternoon we made another trip to the pediatrician since C was running a high fevor, was coughing constantly, and didn't eat his breakfast or lunch. He's fine but will be out of preschool for the rest of the week. It was only 3 weeks ago that he got out of the hospital from a bout with pneumonia. Yes, I know I should have posted about that incident by now. Oh well. Another trip to the doctor gets me to do it. Besides, I'm sure almost all of you know it already from T's running updates on Facebook. It took forever for me to blog and I'm already behind. Don't worry, I won't move over to Facebook; once I do it, it would clearly no longer be cool.

C's temp on Sunday went up to 103. We got it down and he was fine yesterday. But it went up again to 103 today, plus the unremitting coughing. Last month, he had temps of 106 and 105 and went through several days of medical tests. All of which came back negative. Then his breathing got fast and shallow. We took him to the emergency room and the chest xray showed pneunomia (where it hadn't three days earlier). Fortunately, it was spring break week for both T and I. T stayed with him at the hospital the whole time while I traveled back and forth. T supervised the nurses and doctors and used lots of medical terminology so that they would ask her whether she was a nurse or a doctor. Come on, average parents drop medical jargon all the time, don't they? She was in her element and I would get the evil eye for stating the obvious (that happens in class too). Once we were able to get C out of bed to ride in the "racing car" (to which we could attach his monitor and oxygen tank), he was fine. Then he could also go to the playroom. By the time he was released, he seemed perfectly normal. Three cheers for being young and resiliant!

My C story of the week, which I record here for posterity and his future embarassment occured last Saturday when I was trying to prepare him for nap. He didn't want to go potty before his nap, but mean old Ba carried him into the bathroom and held him on the tiolet. He struggled and squirmed and then started peeing. On the shower curtain. Then he started to shift his weight, making a semicircle across the bathroom floor. Then he hit me. Oh well, I never got the "first spraying" story when he was an infant, so I get it now. I got a washcloth and made him help me clean it up. About 2 hours later that afternoon, out of the blue, he says to me, "Ba, Sorry I go pee pee on floor." Wow! I told told him that resisting going to the potty when he really had to go was the problem, not the fact that he went on the floor (or on me!). Nevertheless, I was quite surprised that he would bring it up on his own several hours later and apologize without prompting. It's nice to have those kinds of happy endings. And infants who pee on their parents can't apologize so I have a unique twist to my "Dad got peed on" story.

For better or worse, T did not get a picture of that episode to post for you. In fact, remarkably, I don't think we've taken any photos since the snowman post of last month. So you're stuck reading Ba's incisive observations (alternative interpretation: long-winded, pendantic and Seinfeldian commentaries on trivia) rather than achieving your real purpose of visiting the site to see a new picture of C. Rest assured, T will find a reason to take photos before long. She'll probably be at the door with the camera the next time I take the poor boy to the bathroom...