The Best of Times, the Worst of Times…
I have always been told that when you have to deliver good and bad news, that the bad news should be delivered first. So here goes. Over the weekend we lost a member of our family. His name was Eddie and he was less than three years old. No, he wasn’t a valuable member of the family. He was more of the bastard red-headed stepchild, but his presence has been missed. Eddie was a white cat with orange markings, and sometime between Friday night and Saturday morning he disappeared.
The kids didn’t notice his disappearance, but I did. You see, I hate Eddie, which makes me the prime suspect in his disappearance. But I maintain my innocence, and have an alibi. Eddie and I got off on the wrong foot after I got sick of cleaning up his poop. Eddie was too stupid to drop the deuce in the litter box, and chose some very bizarre places to pinch it.
Kate and I wanted to get rid of Eddie (or ‘Little Puddin’ Tater as Whitney calls him) right from the get go, but Whitney was so attached that we couldn’t bring ourselves to do it. Now that he’s run away on his own after Whitney has become more attached to him it’s even worse than it might have been.
Whitney is in her bed crying about the incident, and has asked that we call out the Amber alert. I decided tonight that after 3 days he probably wasn’t coming back, and decided to tell the kids, who hadn’t noticed. I should have kept my trap shut. Whitney has made signs to post in the neighborhood, and has offered a $5 reward, though she has no money. I tried to assure her that Eddie is fine, and probably warm by the fireplace at someone’s home. That only made it worse, as she then wanted to call everyone and their dog to see if they had him. I convinced her not to call the dogs, as one of them might be implicated. I’ll have mixed feelings if Little Puddin’ Tater comes home. Kate is afraid that he is “a pancake” somewhere.
But what is worse than the fact that Eddie is missing is the dread I have of what’s to come next. It won’t be long before my mother-in-law shows up at our house with a replacement kitten. Just ask her about the damn gerbil that she bought….
The Bi-Pedal Bean
Last weekend before I left for my camping trip we took Lauren in for an EEG. The pediatric neurologist wanted to run the test to see if anything abnormal came up, which would account for the small seizures that Bean has. The test went well and yielded no abnormalities, but Bean didn’t like it a bit.
In order to complete the EEG the child must be asleep, and therefore sleep deprived. Kate had to have her at Primary Children’s Medical Center by seven in the morning. Lauren usually goes to bed about 9:00 and sleeps until 9 in the morning. The night before the test I kept her up with me until midnight, studying for my Classical Mythology midterm. She’s now a big fan on Pallas Athena. She was then awakened at 6AM, so she was running on half of the sleep she’s used to. When it came time for her to sleep during the test she gave no resistance.
The nurse placed 23 electrodes on Lauren’s head, which she didn’t appreciate. The nurse then wrapped Bean’s head with gauze, to prevent her from pulling the electrodes off. Bean looked as if she was recovering from a major head trauma.
Whatever happened during the EEG, it worked. I think that Bean was so traumatized by the EEG that she decided to start walking, just so that she wouldn’t have to do it again. I came home from my camp trip to discover that we finally had a true toddler in the house. She was walking all over the place. She is still a bit wobbly, and still walks like a duck, but she is bi-pedal almost all the time. I am very happy and thankful that she is starting to walk, and progress. I figure she was just being stubborn, and wanted to do it her way. She is the last of our kids, so she wants to give us a challenge…
