So when you wake up in the middle of the night to hear your wee son honking and barking like a performing circus seal, you will soon come to know the joy that is croup. A quick call to the Blue Cross advice nurse landed us in the lovely rural John C. Freemont Hospital at 11:30 Friday night. Whoo hoo, party weekend.
On the plus side there was no line and no waiting. On the down side we had to physically restrain our (strong!) little tot to administer the vaporizer medicine. The nurse kept assuring us that it was a completely normal reaction for a two year old, but somehow that didn't make the fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks, the balled fists, and the raw two year old anger any easier to take. Eventually he crumpled into a resigned and sweaty lump in Poppa's lap and let the Horkasaurus do its job.
Then he forgot it all and gleefully downed a cup of steroids diluted with grape juice. And asked for more. Ah, that's my boy. Won over by the sweet allure of fruit squeezin's, the little juiceaholic. And then we were sent home with advice to keep a close eye on him for the rest of the night. So momma got to sleep on the floor with her thrashy little tot, who did stupendously the rest of the night. And now we are the proud owners of a new cool mist humidifier. And the Tanskster is doing awesome, with nary a honk in the last 24 hours.
Oh, hey, and did I mention that last week Tank and I were snuggling on the couch after an especially traumatic splinter removal when things went a little wrong? Tank was coming in for an exceptionally vehement snuggle and accidentally head butted momma square in the schnozz. Crunch. Spurt. Instant double-nostril nosebleed. Wow. I've never had one of those before. I can't imagine being a boxer, because, dude, that was a deal breaker! Momma was pretty much done for the day!
So cross yer fingers that we all make it through this next week with our bits and pieces still attached. We really like our bits and pieces!