A compliment?

We had to take K-man to the pediatrician yesterday. He'd been fussy all weekend and while we know that he's doing some serious teething, that screaming bit was indicative of something else going on. Yet, he only really fussed when it came time to sleep. Well, the daycare called yesterday afternoon and our little man had woken up from naptime with a 100.2 degree fever. I immediately thought, "Ear Infection!" That's the only thing that made sense. So we got him in to see the doctor yesterday afternoon.

I met Hubby and baby there at the office and got in the little room with them about 15 minutes after they got there. It's a good thing both of us were there, as it gets increasingly difficult to entertain a one-year old in a room the size of a handicap stall in a women's restroom. What really makes the trip a keeper for the memory book is when K'ster decides it's time to relieve himself of his last three meals. I caught him squatting in the corner of the room (like there was any place to hide). Where did my child learn to squat to go potty? So, there he squatted...then stood up, then squatted, then stood up, then squatted. It was somewhat entertaining and somewhat disturbing. And if I did that squatting routine like he did everyday, I sure wouldn't have these saddle bags on my legs that so graciously add character to Shirley. After all of that squatting the baby did, he finally stood straight up, clenched his little budha belly, pursed his lips, cuts his eyes up at me, and held his breath. Good Heavens that child can stink! I knew he was finished with business when he burst out into a grin and did a little jig in front of me. I know the feeling, bubba, I know the feeling. So, now our little bathroom stall smelled the part.

Aside from the saving grace of Hubster remembering to bring a water bottle and crackers for the little kiddo, what mainly kept his (our) sanity was the little rolling stool that the doctor sits on. K-man loves to push that around that little room and whang in against the walls, the chairs, the cabinets, and the exam table - and the occasional parent. I finally sat on the rolly-stool and played him as I whirled around. He got tired of that game and got down where he could push on the legs of the stool. That child put himself in four-low and started pushing....and pushed me on that stool! Now, lemme tell ya folks, I'm no lightweight! And while I full and well realize that some dynamics were in play in relation to weight and coefficients of friction and the angle of moments along with momentun, the fact remains that my little bulldozer pushed me around. We scooped him up once we realized what he was doing and checked him out and he was fine...ticked that we had stifled his fun, but he was fine, and we deterred him from doing that again.

The morale of the story, if you're feeling bad about what you weigh, just tell someone that your 1-year old can push you around on a rolly stool. They'll all think you're light as a feather! (suckers)