Don't worry, this isn't going to be a political post. I got out all my politicalness two posts ago. Or all that I had to share on the blog, at least.
This post is about my hope/faith/desire that the day will soon come that the doorbell will ring and Aaron won't screech in horror and run and hide as far behind/under the table and chairs as he can get. And then continue to scream and cry. Even after he sees that it's only David's friend coming to see if he wants to play ball.
I also feel sure that one day I'll be giving Aaron a bath and won't try to scrub off the mysterious dried on specs of something that are way too high up on both sides of his bum to be anything nasty (more like the sides of his lower back), rubbing and rubbing until I remember. Again.
He was quite a sick little guy over a week ago and required antibiotics. The doctor worried that he wouldn't keep down any taken orally (fortunately he still has never thrown up in all of his 19 months of life, but there were other losing-contents-of-the-stomach-too-quickly issues. Look how discreet I am.) That's why she ordered a nurse to come to our house twice a day for five days to administer an injection of antibiotics. Right there on the sides of us upper bum/lower back.
They said it was a painful shot. I believe them based on the level of screaming and wriggling and crying, and now also based on how long his terror of the doorbell has continued after the shots stopped. I also believe them based on the fact that he rarely cries when he gets immunizations. I'm so glad he's feeling better now and has started being active and super smiley again today. As long as nobody stops by for a visit, anyway.