A plague has hit

My poor kid. If he knew what the Bubonic plague was he would swear he had it.

We spent a majority of the night bouncing between being held and sitting on the floor. The final act was a real mommy tear jerker though. Blood curdling screams paired with limp noodled back arching. He wouldn't even let me pick him up. I was heart broken that I couldn't help my baby. So after 45 minutes I woke up Hubby and we speed dressed (we could have won an award for that shit) and threw a blanket over D to take him out to the car. We grabbed the diaper bag, grabbed Dragon (because we can't go ANYWHERE without Dragon) and started to walk out the door. And don'tcha know? He had finally worn himself out and stopped crying.
We decided to give him a bottle and, now this is where you clutch your pearls sanctimommies, put him to bed and made plans to call the doctor in the morning. This was at 5am.

So the day rolls by and we find ourselves sauntering into the doctors office. The official title holders, the "Been there, done that" champs. The people who secretly live in the office after hours. Yep, we're that family. Hello's are said and pleasantries are exchanged. Paperwork is initialed, signed, and dated with the wrong date because well shit, what day is it again? The receptionist all agree that no, he doesn't look sick. But does he ever? He babbles and smiles and is given a sucker. The usual "oh these people again" routine. We sit in well waiting because there's no one else, and after giving the snot bucket in sick waiting the 5th degree I decide not to battle that demon. And yes you can clutch your pearls there as well. We chase around a runaway baby/toddler and are surprised to actually be called back early. That NEVER happens. Like ever. We tinkle our damn panties when we go in AT our appointment time.

So now the nurse is taking his stats and he flirts. The doctor comes in and checks him out and he screams. Right ear "good, beautiful", left ear "eeehh, not the worst I've seen but", throat "and he's got tonsillitis."
Excuse me, WHAT?!?!?
My poor boy. My sweet, poor boy. No wonder he was so miserable last night. I start thinking that maybe we should have taken him to the ER. A prescription is sent in. I verify that this is, in fact, the one that turns his poop an almost blood red color. Something we learned the hard way the first time he took it. I congratulate him on a new illness to add to the list. Hubby thinks I'm serious. I'm not serious. And we head off to Target, where I guilt myself into buying him not just puffs, but animal crackers, mac'n cheese, and Teddy Grahams. Other than feeling like he could cause a massive epidemic, like Contagion massive, he is seriously winning today.

But seriously, am I the only one who feels like if a kid is sick they should at least ACT sick while at the doctors? Instead of making their parents look insane? "I swear doc, he really WAS sick!"