I heard The Baby choking last night. I ran upstairs to find him in his father’s arms. Choking. With his father holding him. I yanked him out of his father’s hands and started slapping him on his back.
Nothing came up.
D: I didn’t have another hand to try to get whatever it was out of his mouth.
Nice. The Baby stopped choking and looked at me. He had a little blood on his lip.
Picking up the phone and leaving a message with the surgeon FIL.
K: Yeah, WE were just wondering if The Baby ate something and then started to bleed, would that be a sign that he had perforated his esophagus or anything?
My FIL is probably thinking this is only a step up from the time I called him and asked his secretary to get him out of the meeting because I had a tick on me and I was sure I had Rocky Mountain spotted fever. That time he calmly reminded me that I live about 1800 miles from the Rockies so this should not be a problem.
The Baby then spent the better part of the night up. And he was cranky. He bit me excessively. I almost threw him out the window. His father finally conducted an intervention. We were sent to our separate corners and he continued to cry. I finally gave up and turned the light on. He spent the next 1 1/2 hours climbing over me. I am tired.
When we talked to my FIL today, he mentioned that if The Baby was constipated, we could always feel up his butt to see if we could unlodge the offending item. This surprised me because if whatever it was had to go the 7 miles through the intestines, it seems a little odd that it would just clog stuff up right before the final exit. Really.
It doesn’t matter because not long after, The Baby began to smell horrible. I changed his diaper and there, nestled in his nastiness, was a shiny penny. The kid craps money. What parent could ask for more?