Earlier in the week, I was going to post a follow-up to the previous whining about how my son doesn't like me. I was going to tell you that the Thrush has persisted and that the Phanar of Flatulance is showing more symptoms and that is probably why he is so fussy. Jaime noticed persistent whitish stuff on his tongue and she has been experiencing continued pain while feeding him. I was going to apologize for casting aspersions on his ability to show me the love and respect that that he owes me as my son.
Thrush, however, is not the problem. The Big News this week is that Poops-a-Lot and Leaks-a-Lot do not have thrush anymore. They went to the doctor who examined them thoroughly and told Jaime that there are no signs or symptoms of Thrush. As it turns out, the whitish stuff is normal and mothering just hurts sometimes. Who knew?
This medical opinion of course contradicts the opinion our our synod of Lactation Consultants with all their womanly instinctual earth-goddess wisdom. They were disappointed when we called to cancel the leeching.
I am thrilled. No more boiling everything all the time. No more feeding Froggy Toes medication that could make his liver look that of an aging alcoholic.
Of course it leaves me with my original hypothesis that Squirmy is an unappreciative twerp.
The Dough-boy has topped eleven pounds. Jaime tried to count all of his chins but gave up after she got to the top of his diaper. The Doctor says that his weight is in the 57th percentile. This is the same percentage of people who would rather "hold it" than use scratchy, public restroom toilet paper.
Grandma Suzie got the stains out of the baptismal gown. Thank you Grandma Suzie!
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