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So the latest development is that my boy likes to bite his toenails.

Yes. You read it right. He bites his toenails. He also bites his fingernails, but anyone can do that. Apparently biting one’s toenails takes some talent, especially when you’re missing some front teeth.

I have no idea why he’s taken up this habit, but I find him on the couch pretty frequently, transfixed by SpongeBob or Avatar or Tom and Jerry, crunching away on his toenails. So the upside is that he’s flexible and has nice strong teeth. The downside is that he bites his toenails!

I just picture this being a relationship deal-breaker somewhere down the road. Girlfriend comes over, uses her key, sees him biting his toenails, and calls the whole thing off. Crushed and embittered, he moves into my basement and codependence begins. Noooo!

Anyway, I’m trying to be smart about it. I don’t want to make a big deal of it. Every now and again, I casually mention that I’ll be happy to cut his toenails if he feels they need it. No. He’s fine. Do I let it go with the hope that it will stop on its own? Time will tell….

Actually, I’m doing a pretty good job of it. But…

You might recall that my lovely boy had hives a few weeks ago, and the doctor cultured his throat just to be on the safe side. He always takes these things well, but they called the following day to say that the lab couldn’t process the test because it was expired. Sigh. Back to the doctor yet again for a new culture. Anyway, that test revealed yucky things. I found out today that in addition to strep, he had strep pneumonia AND staph in there. And not just any staph, either. You know how you hear about people getting staph infections in hospitals and dying? Yeah. It’s that kind. The doctor cautioned me not to look it up online, lest it scare the living shit out of me. So I haven’t. Yet.

Of course, you would never have known to look at him that these insidious little bugs were living in his throat, other than the hives, which they think were related to the infection. He did a course of antibiotics and seems well and has more energy than ever. And the doctor said that a lot of people have this staph on their skin and nothing can be done about it. But jeez. How many bacteria can one little kid incubate? We went back in today for another culture, our doctor consulted an ENT specialist, and everyone decided that N needs antibiotic cream applied in his nose for a week. Which he just adores, by the way. Gah. And if the culture comes back normal, then we’re out of the woods. But if he happens to sprout a rash or has a cut that doesn’t heal, he needs to be seen immediately.

What’s next? Honestly, I expect flesh-eating bacteria to ring the doorbell any minute. Well, if we had a doorbell…

I’m beginning to think I don’t do nearly enough with my boy in the morning before he goes to school. The husband is home, sick, and Nicholas hasn’t dropped a syllable all morning.

Anyway, he’s flitting around, playing pirates, playing chef, playing all kinds of stuff, and he asked if he could make his dad some soup to help him feel better.

The offering…”Dad, let’s pretend I give you the soup, and it has roaches and eyeballs in it, and let’s pretend you think that’s ‘scusting.”

No need for pretending there.

Roaches AND eyeballs. Apparently both are needed to actually make it “‘scusting.”

😀

So I’m an ersatz musician. I sing, play a little guitar, am surrounded by music, and am fortunate to play with a great group of talented and nice people. Talented and nice don’t always go hand-in-hand, so I’m a lucky girl indeed. It’s a great little pursuit, something that brings a good vibe to my life and gives my four-year-old a view into a culture most kids don’t get to see. I told my husband Saturday that ours was probably the only kid in his school whose parents dragged him out that night so his mom could compete in a folk competition.

Anyway, one of my few talents is a brain that retains song lyrics. Like, seriously. If I freed up that space and used it to retain something useful, I’m frightened to think what I could do. So with all the songs I know and all the tunes I could be singing…

THIS is what has been stuck in my head since Sunday. God help me.

The Wiggles have bought me a lot of free time over the years, so I can’t really hold a grudge. But come on. Why can’t I have some Blind Faith stuck in my brain?