She cleared her throat. "Well, we should probably check his throat as well."
"Go right ahead," I replied. "Would you like me to hold his nose? Pin him down? Manipulate him with reverse-psychology?"
"But I guess since he probably has an ear infection--"
"Probably? Did your instrument give you an inconclusive reading?"
"Well, he had a lot of wax in there, but there was a red part that I thought I saw. You said he wasn't feeling good?"
"Right. That is why we're here."
"So the ear infection antibiotic will also knock out a throat infection if he happens to have one of those too. Do you want me to still inspect his throat?"
"It wouldn't make a difference, right? Same medication regardless?"
"Right."
"Then no."
She did anyway. Suddenly, boom, there was the tongue depressor, and Rowan, God bless him, locked his mouth tighter than a bear trap. I didn't really help her get it open because I was so flummoxed by how in the world our previous conversation led her to this land of bizarre and illogical choices.
"He's not opening his mouth for the tongue blade," she said captain-obviously.
"I doubt calling it a tongue 'blade' will help your cause. Didn't we say a throat exam wouldn't change anything medicine-wise?"
"The medicine will take care of the ear infection and any possible throat infection."
"Rowan, do you want her to put that stick in your mouth just for fun?"
Unclamp. "No." Clamp.
"I think we'll just take the prescription, then, if it's cool with you."
"Well okay, if you're--"
"We're sure."
So we kept him home today (summer plan is kids in daycare Tuesday and Friday) because he still had a slight fever. By the afternoon he felt a lot better, so I took him to daycare to pick up Lyla.
Unabashed cuteness in 3...2...1...
Later at dinner, Julie brought him home a bike helmet.
Finally he no longer needs to covet his sister's helmet. I don't think he even cares that he doesn't have a bike. So add the helmet to his new medicine, and basically he feels like the lord of creation.
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