Mr. Grumpers

Asher has been teething for the past couple of weeks, but it seems to be getting worse. He has constantly been gnawing on his little fingers this weekend and the drooling has gotten so bad that, this evening, I had to dig out his bibs. I'd finally packed those darn things up a few months ago because THANK THE LORD he didn't need them anymore. Or so I thought. On top of that, he started coming down with a cold a couple of days ago, and now his cough sounds like that of a forty-year smoker. And just when he couldn't be any happier, we drug him to the doctor today for his 15-month checkup. I thought this was going to be an easy visit - I could have sworn no shots were going to be involved this time. Ah, but Mommy's memory is crap, we all know that, and he did have to have a couple of shots. He has spent the rest of the evening letting us know, too, that he is miserable and that we should be blamed. Because that's what parents seem to be there for, right? He didn't have a completely awful time at the doctor's, though. We got stuck in the waiting room for 40 minutes, which normally would be a disaster, but luckily there was a little 19-month old girl who was eager to play with him. They were so cute, I wish I'd had my camera. They spent lots of time spinning each other on the chairs, looking out the window together, dancing, tackling each other, and chit-chatting in their own language. The little girl was so smitten with Asher that she cried when we had to leave, it was so sad! Asher is up to almost 24 pounds, so he's in the 50th percentile for weight, and is 32 inches in height, which is in the 75th percentile. The doctor said he looks perfect, and I said WELL, DUH!

Because we felt so bad for him, we did what most parents do when their kid is sick: we became complete pushovers. All he wanted for dinner was banana, yogurt melts, and apple juice. SO BE IT. He did NOT want his pajamas on, so he got to run around the house for a couple of hours in his diaper. We read all the books he brought to us, multiple times upon request. He got to sit in Daddy's chair and watch TV and play with the remote for as long as he wanted. We did stand our ground and made him go to bed at a reasonable hour, however, which gives me hope that I will not cave and buy him a car should he ever break a bone or get chicken pox.