He snuffled his way through a fitful night's sleep, coughing and breathing needles of air through tiny snot-lined nasal passages, and still awoke as chipper as a chipmunk this morning.
As I dressed him for his doctors' appointment today all the things a mother could think go through my head. Not just the worry that they'll find something devastating, but the idea that they’ll find fault with the care he’s been getting from me.
Each time we took Annabel to her appointments I'd always feel like I'd failed when the doctor noted a host of things that regular cleanings and maintenance should have prevented:
*Red in the folds.
*A spot of eczema that regular applications of hydrocortisone would have cured.
But as I check him over I just see a happy baby with peachy skin and chubby legs. This time, I brag to myself, I have to be an Olympic contender in parenting.
And I was still feeling all sorts of faultless when she clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth and noted the condition of his toenails ...
"Looks like someone needs a trim ... "
I wanted to protest. To tell her that Annabel’s nails nearly curled upon themselves and she never noticed. But then I realized, I had gotten away with something. Best not to remind her.
*** Silas weighed in at 12 pounds, 10 ounces and measured 24 ½ inches. His head circumference is 40 cm. (They dispensed with the percentiles this time). Also he repeated four injections and one oral vaccine. The kid stopped crying the moment I picked him up.