Official Diagnosis: Toddler Crud.

All week we've been plagued by the sniffles.  It's that time of year, although it ALWAYS feels like it's that time of year.  The temperature zooms in and out from being totally freezing one day to rather mild and balmy the next. In other words, a breeding ground for germs to spread and cause discomfort in little ones.  

G went from having a fever on Sunday to that lovely goopey, sometimes crusty nose-tip that he refuses to let me clean even as I try to reassure him that it may actually help him breathe to let me do so. Oh the joys.  And while his appetite remained great and his sleeping habits too, the one thing I always worry about with him are ear infections. He's had several since entering this world, and each time I worry that it means long term effects for hearing, although the doctors reassure me that it's just a part of being a baby.


Yesterday, on the eve of his 18 month birthday, (when did I all of a sudden have a 1 1/2 year old??!) and day five of the congestion, I decided it was time to get his ears checked.  I thought for sure after dealing with so much stuffiness, I'd be told that his little tiny ears would be inflamed and off to Target for an antibiotic we'd go.  We scored a late afternoon appointment, which I realize is so not the optimal time for him to go anywhere.  He's so tired and cranky from a day full of play, but off we went and immediately upon entering the doc office, he's entranced by the gigantic fish tank that occupies one corner of the room.  He gently points his finger to the glass, somehow knowing not to bang on it, and watches the colored fish zip all around, through their plastic trees and sturdy ornaments.  (I see a fish tank in our future, because you know, we don't have enough animals to complete a menagerie.)


Within five minutes we were called into a room--a record I think.  Clad only in his birthday suit, we attempted to get him weighed.   He did NOT appreciate this.  Maybe it was the cold metal tray with only a thin filmy cover against his tushy, (although who wouldn't protest at that?) or the fact that he has begun to associate the doc's office as a place where not so nice things happen (shots, shots and umm, shots?).  We finally got him to sit on the scale, registered the number, and back in my arms he went, contented, but still warily eying the nurse. 

My second favorite pediatrician came in, Dr. G, and promptly listened to his chest, pronouncing it sounding perfect.  Really?  Because the phlegmy cough he's been waking up with would cause me to disagree, but that's why she's got the stethoscope and I don't.  Next she checked his ears. Also declared perfect.  What a relief. It's always when I think he has one that he doesn't and vice versa.  She did inform me that at this stage, around the 18 month milestone, their ears begin to mature, thus the frequency of ear infections should be going down. No meds needed.  Another relief.  Her diagnosis?  Toddler crud.  Official terminology.  It sounds about as lovely as it is.


Meanwhile I asked her about his teeth---fingers have been in the mouth a lot lately and every time I try to stick my own in to feel around for hard gums, I come away with chomped teethmarks on my index finger.  She felt around and said nope, he's got all the teeth he's going to get until his 2 year molars come in between the second and third year.  Really? I knew he was sort of an overachiever with the teeth but hadn't realized he was done for awhile. Yippee!  

Back into his clothes, no follow up appointment needed, we skated out of there with a brief stop at the fish tank to wave bye bye.  As soon as we get home, we let the Gabs out, and play in the driveway and yard.  Some days we bring the mini cars out, others we just trudge through the grass to see what we see, and some we grab the broom and sweep the driveway.  

His interest for snow and these tools makes me think he'll be all set for shoveling this winter. The sniffles didn't deter us.  They just make us want to play harder.  Happy 18 months, sweet boo!