Pink like porkies.

So the good news is the baby slept through the night again last night, thank Christ. I was wondering if we were lost forever. Now I can see his one little tooth poking up from his bottom gum without having to pull back his lip to look for it, and I have to say it’s ridiculously cute. I guess I’ll need to learn how to keep it clean so it doesn’t rot right back out of his head, causing more sleepless nights.

But when one door closes another opens: now he has pink eye. Yes, pink eye. Not having been around a bunch of children, I haven’t seen a case of pink eye since my own 30 years ago, and it’s no more pleasant now. I called his school to tell them I was taking him to the doctor to confirm, and the director asked me to call if it was true so they could post a notice. Refusing to take responsibility for infecting the rest of the kids, when he obviously picked it up there himself, I said, “I’m pretty sure he got it there since it’s the only place he goes.” The director replied that no other children have it, so I lied and said I was pretty sure one other kid in Eeyore’s class had had it recently. In fact, there is this one boy who is always a hot mess of gooey snot and flame-red cheeks and nose, so chances are his eyeballs are red behind all the other rheumy trappings of babyhood. Whatever; I’m not above throwing some other hapless child under the bus to avoid looking like the gross family that nobody wants around.