Brave Little Soldier

Today, I took The Boy to the doctor for what we thought was a mild eye infection. One of the downsides to daycare, of course, is that the little ones are susceptible to every circulating bug. The office was jam-packed, and the wait was long. Forty-five minutes after we arrived, we finally saw a doctor. During that time, The Boy went from lazily playing with a truck, to sitting on my lap, to laying his head on my chest and sucking his thumb. He was burning up and one cheek was bright red, as if someone had slapped him. After a thorough examination, not only did he have an eye infection in both eyes, an ear infection in both ears, but a fever of 104! The Boy and I waited another half hour in the examination room while the doctor tried to find an antibiotic that wouldn't give The Boy hives. During that time, The Boy lounged dispiritedly in my lap, eyes half-closed, breath rattling, like a sleepy, wheezy furnace. My stomach clenched and I clung to him, desperately hoping that my heart would catch up to my head, and believe what I knew to be true. All babies get sick. It's perfectly normal. It sucks, but it's perfectly normal. When the doctor handed me the prescription, the words stuck in my throat. In the silence, there came a squeaky little voice that said:

"Tank ewe. Buh-bye!"

Ahh, my love, you are braver than I am.