I'm back home, safe and...well, more or less sound.
So The Child has been a right little monster for the past almost-week, and I myself have been feeling more than a little under-the-weather, as well. I mean, not to brag, (okay, to brag just a little...) but The Child is, for the most part, as close to an angel as can possibly be expected from any toddler. However, in the past almost-week, The Child has manifested an almost preternatural, diametric change in temperament into a shrieking, hitting, literally crockery-flinging beast-on-wheels. And that just ain't right, right? I know!
I myself have had that charmant "did someone beat the crap outta me when I wasn't paying attention?" feeling for the past almost-week, as well. And, since I really have been paying real strict attention to whether I've been beaten or not, I did finally come to the conclusion that my problem is most likely pathogenic (as opposed to surreptitious-beatingic) in origin.
The Child, even when quite demonstrably damaged, inevitably answers "good" or "fine" to any/all questions regarding personal well-being, so a trip to the doctor was in the cards. And, hooray(!) they could take us this afternoon! After a screaming and kicking fight with The Child regarding the necessity of wearing pants when venturing out, we were off to the doc's office...thankfully less than a 10 minute drive from my garage.
As The Child and I were walking into the medical building, I noticed that Its cheeks were almost cartoonishly pink. The doc noticed it straightaway, as well, and he also noticed something else.
"Does (The Child) usually have this marking on (Its) arms? I know (The Child) is extremely fair-skinned, but this mottled-looking redness on (Its) arms...is this normal for (The Child)?"
Okay, so...whoa. No, doctor, that weird, zombie-esque mottled redness is most certainly NOT normal for The Child!! In fact, I can't imagine that it would be normal for anyone who hadn't been in recent physical contact with Rogue during the climactic final scene of an X-Men movie. Which, btw, The Child has not been filming. (I know this, because if It had, I would've been endorsing those juicy Equity checks, and I haven't.)
Our pediatrician has got his "Talking-to-the-Parent/s-Look" down to a flat-out science, and so, after pointing out the zombification that (yet another) genius-mom had overlooked, he turned and twinkled The Look out at me with particular intensity.
"(Its) ears look fine. And (Its) throat looks fine. Now, have you heard of Fifth Disease? Because what we have here appears to be Fifth Disease."
I was all, "OMG! I totally have heard of Fifth Disease! What the heck is Fifth Disease!?" Because if one thing can be reliably said about your truly, it is that I almost inevitably say something unbelievably inane and/or redundant when I am surprised. The pediatrician twinkled soothingly at me, and explained that it is "one of the childhood diseases" and that I can expect the child "to behave this way for about another 3 weeks. So just give (It) tylenol and aveeno baths as needed. And (in answer to my dawning-horror driven query) yes, it is contagious." And yes, I most likely did have "some sort of related viral infection," which would explain my enormously swollen mouth and tonsils, as well as the post-beatingesque malaise.
In my haste to get the heck out of the office and buy myself, er....uh, I mean, buy The Child some quick relief in the form of "big kid" chewable tylenol, I completely neglected to ask what TF exactly are Diseases One through Four.
Dr. Google, here I come!
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