The little guy is still sick.  Still has a plugged ear, still running a temperature.  Still whiny.

Me too.

Time to get him to the doctor tomorrow.  He'll probably get a dose of the "pink stuff", a 10-day batch of amoxicillin.  I've held off as long as I can but he doesn't appear to be making the bend on this one.  Hate to think I'm contributing to the resistance of bugs to antibiotics, but I also hate to think I could be messing with my son's hearing or courting a case of strep.

The guys at work all think this is the fun stage.  Yeah, right, ha-ha, that's a knee-slapper. 

I'm sure their wives would say otherwise.

This wife will be up in the middle of the night again, for the third night in a row.  Up at 5:30 am when the little guy can't stay asleep any longer because of congestion.  Chase him to one sitter (who'll take him while ill) and his sister to school, head for the office, call the doctor's office repeatedly until we can get a late-day appointment, skip lunch hour, leave work early, wait an hour in the doctor's office, wait another hour at the megastore for the pharmacy, then pick up the kids.  Try to fix the healthy kid one meal while coaxing the other one to drink fluids and take his meds. 

Where's dad?  The same place these other dads have been during this fun stage.

And they wonder why women aren't making the corner offices of the Fortune 100.

9:08:05 PM    comment []