Taking the kid to the pediatrician is always fun and amusing, because they frequently want to run Medical Tests on the boy, which he interprets as CIA Operatives Obviously Trying To Make Him Spill The Beans About His Secret Base. This was even more fun than the usual, because he's actually sick this time. They had to take a throat swab. This required the intervention of five people: me, Chris, one of the nurses (all of whom were holding him down), the actual pediatrician, and a small emergency backup pediatrician (one of them took the swab, and the other paid attention to the color of his throat as he was screaming his fool head off rather than give up the location of his secret base). Best new theory: kid has strep with a side order of nightly croup.
I love this sort of thing. They always suggest that I hold him, which makes me laugh politely and dryly (heh heh heh riiiiiiiiiiight) as I suggest that he lie down on the table, and could we get another few sets of hands please? Because the boy only likes to be held if it's his idea, you see, and if I try to hold him while y'all do something he will kick you in the Sensitive Parts as he tries to get away. (I don't know how he does it, but he always manages to direct his kicks toward nads and/or breasts, whichever would be least appropriate at the time.)
He's been sleeping most of the day, and when I tried to give him a piece of Larabar (the apple and/or cherry pie ones are the only ones that aren't just weird, IMO) he made a face like it was a chocolate covered burdock wrapped in sandpaper, so I'm betting they're right on the strep thing. Last evening we spent quality time on the phone with Microsoft Dial-A-Nurse™ as Seaners had a freakout screaming croup attack. Fun times. Hope that never happens again, I'm telling you.
Totally random: the new Radiohead album is concentrated awesome. May have to shell out the $80 for the shiny boxed set with bonus tracks. Yom yom yom.
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