January 8, 2011
One of those mornings
Poor Colin had to get a handful of vaccine’s at the pediatrician yesterday, so he woke and fussed a little more than usual last night. It amazes me that in the first two months a fever is an emergency requiring a visit to the emergency room, but at two months and one day, it’s safe to give vaccines that will cause a fever for the next 24 hours or so.
So poor Stinkerton has a fever, and we don’t like it. Fortunately, once we calm the original upset after he wakes, he’s back to smiling and cooing, if he does look a bit glassy-eyed.
After nursing him, I need to pump, so Allen and Stinks entertain each other with dueling cooing. I leave them smiling at each other on the bed while I go to bag up the milk.
I get no further than the bottom of the stairs because a large puddle surrounds one side of the doormat.
After I clean the cat pee (undoubtedly The Beast’s doing), I come back upstairs, rinse the towels, and throw them in the washer.
Back downstairs, I begin a mini battle with the bag of milk because I can’t get my grip on it just where I need to in order to squeeze out all the air bubbles. I move my operation to the counter on the island where the light is better. Trouble jumps up to see me, and as I sweep him off, he takes with him the tooth-shaped box that Allen’s mother brought over earlier this week.
The top of the plastic tooth pops open when it hits the floor, and now Allen’s wisdom teeth are scattered on the linoleum, so big they look like caricatures of teeth.
I bend down to gather them and throw them out, but stop myself. I need to finish storing the milk with clean hands. Trouble and The Beast sniff the teeth and then lazily bat them around the floor, only half-interested in this new toy.
Back upstairs (urine cleaned, milk stored, teeth disposed of), Allen and Colin have fallen asleep next to each other on the bed.
Good morning and good night.