In which I don't bother coming up with a conclusion.
March 18, 2005Today Henry woke up to find that his nose had turned into a cascading waterfall of goo. Besides the runniness and the sneeziness he seems relatively okay, but he has also been squeamish lately about strange substances on his skin, so every time he sneezes and mucus shoots out of his nose, he screams “Get it off me! GET IT OFF!” and I have to run and wipe him before he enters The Freakout Territory From Which It Is Difficult To Exit Gracefully. You’d think such a fussy child would learn to wipe his own nose, but when the tissue is used and it becomes infused with the goo, then his hands must be wiped. It's an exhausting process. A few times he just lunged forward and wiped his nose on my jeans, and I let him.
Right before his nap I thought he felt a little warm, so I whipped out the thermometer. Now, in the past Henry has found the under-arm option of temperature-taking unacceptable; strangely, he always handled the rectal option with aplomb, so that’s where we went. So today I didn’t even think about it: I lubed up the thermometer and put him over my lap. Henry was intensely curious about the goings-on; when I got out the thermometer he was all “What is THAT” and then “Oooh, temperature,” and “Because I don’t feel well” and “This will make my rash better” (lately everything is about the rash). Then I took off his diaper, which is always a thrill for him, and when I told him to lie down across my lap he was clearly anticipating Fun Times. And then there was insertion.
What I failed to take into account is, because this has been a ridiculously healthy year for all of us, I haven’t taken Henry’s temperature in a long, long time. And what an 18-month-old will tolerate is not necessarily what a two-something enjoys. So I stuck this thermometer in and Henry says, “Hey. HEY. WAIT. HEY. What’s THAT. NO. HEY,” like an adult chastising a little kid who put something where it’s not supposed to go. It was so adult that I started laughing and I took the thermometer out of my indignant son’s butt and he stood up and looked at me, still saying, “HEY” except now because I was laughing he concluded that whatever had just happened, it was hilarious. And then we had lunch. The End.
Reader Comments (37)
Or so I hear. :)
I am SO saying that at my next employee evaluation.
Similar situation, you understand. Just with a bigger (ahem) thermometer and an individual who, unlike Mom Alice, does NOT have my best interests at heart. I also don't think Mom Alice gets as much subversive joy out of rectal thermometering as my mom did. Hmm.
I am also still laughing at the poop-diverting cat savior. THAT's a true animal lover. I'll have to remember that when my about-to-be-birthed niece starts projectile pooping in the direction of Prince Harry the Cat.
No. HEY.
I also can not recommend the ear thermometers, same issues already noted. My kids didn't like the armpit, but I didn't like the alternative, especially with little boys, you know what happens when you take their diapers off, they pee all over the place! Also, I could never tell when the old fashioned ones were done, ya know? I much prefer a thermometer that beeps!
Oh, and to Sarcastic Journalist: Are you sure? Because I was pretty sure that Finslippy meant "has sex with dolphins." You know, with the slippery fins and all that? Okay never mind...
You know, I don't have kids but God, I love to read your stories about them. You are hilarious.
Sometimes I am tempted to have a child and then realize that I am insane and can't even remember to let the cat in when he runs out into the hallway or deal with his poop or vomit without wanting to throw up myself. I have seen a child projectile vomit. No way in hell am I dealing with that. Mothers absolutely amaze me. You guys are wonderful. Don't let anyone tell you differently.