Real life from the crack of dawn....
Friday, March 16, 2007
A Tick and A Bitch
Trey and I have had quite the morning today. By 9:07 AM, I was exhausted!
It all started when I went into his room to snuggle him awake for school. Kate and Chris had already been snuggled, fed and sent on their way.
So I loved on him and degrumbled him and we were all set to head downstairs for breakfast when I ruffled his hair and felt an odd bump on the back of his head just above the nape of his neck.
"Uh-oh" I said "Let me take a look at this bump."
I moved the hair aside and sure enough there is a tick, wiggling and flailing and embedded in my son's head.
"Trey," I said, "There is a tick on your head. I have to get tweezers and pull it out."
So far, so good. No major freaking out going on. Ticks are not uncommon around here Especially on little boys who go trekking in the woods, wading through creeks where the deer drink etc.
(Trey's shoes are still drying from his creek wade, fully clothed and shoed, THREE days ago.)
Anyway, I go get tweezers, a tissue and some alcohol. I position a light and get to work. I am hoping to go in close and pull it out cleanly.
No such luck.
This tick does not want to let go. And in the process, I am accidentally tweezing out hairs from my son's head which is causing all kinds of mayhem and hysteria.
The tick is flailing. Trey is flailing. It is like some kind of sick synchronized dance routine.
Relatively quickly we descend into the kind of madness that children undergoing medical procedures inhabit, in which they begin screaming before you even TOUCH them. The anticipation and fear becomes greater than the process itself.
What started out as a snuggle morning wake up has become full stop war, with literal bloodshed, random tick parts, yanked hairs, scalp bits, screaming, snot and tears.
It is only 8:45 AM.
Finally, I wave the white flag. I got all but a bit of the tick. I decide to go downstairs and call the nurse line to find out if a tick bit even matters.
So I cuddle Trey back into a decent mood and we begin to head downstairs.
I told him that his dad made maple links for breakfast and that Chris also had a bagel.
Would he like a peanut butter and jelly half bagel, like a sandwich?
"You mean, a sandwich on a bagel?" he asked. "Yep," I said. "Peanut butter and jelly!" "So, a bitch!" he said.
"WHAT?"I nearly fell down the stairs. Did my five year old son just say BITCH?
"Did you just say bitch??" I asked him having recovered my footing.
"Yes, a bitch is bagel plus sandwich mixed together."
So it is, but not to the general public.
We make our way into the kitchen by this point and I calmly told him that bitch is a word that we don't say even when we mean a bagel sandwich.
I think he got it. Now he thinks Bitch means the same thing as Dammit. I think that is progress, but I'm not sure.