If you're happy and you know it

Today when I went to wake up Emma, I was legitimately excited. Just a couple weeks shy of two years old, she has been an explosion of personality lately, and I couldn't wait to spend the remainder of my morning with her .... even if I was running late ... again.


When I went into her bedroom, she was in her traditional sleeping position: on her belly, her legs tucked up beneath her, her little butt was sticking up in the air. I wonder if she will still be sleeping like this when she's 16, or if this little joy of mine is reserved for her toddler years.



Like her mommy, Emma takes a few minutes to orient herself once awakened, and so I scooped her up in my arms. That's when I saw it. What started out last night as a slightly red bug bite by her right eye was this morning a monstrosity. It looked like she'd been slugged, and the flesh around her eyeball was so pink and swollen that her big, brown eye was barely visible.



After putting her in a clean Pull Up, and setting her in her high chair for breakfast, I started running down my list of obligatory calls. I called dad to make sure I wasn't overreacting. I called to page the doctor. I called Olivet and then the baby-sitter to let them know I'd be late. And then I called Robert. (I'm sure when he reads this, he will wonder why he was last. My theory was that his panic would be significanly diminished if I called him once a plan of action was already underway.)



Then we waited. I finished getting ready, while Emma happily ate a generic version of Apple Jacks in her high chair. I often worry this is not nutritionally sound, but I'm appeased by the box which assures me she's getting 9 essential vitamins and minerals.


When the doctor still hadn't called me back, I joined Emma in watching Wonder Pets. I was amazed that she laughed at the appropriate moment after Ming Ming made a bad pun.



After the credits rolled, she announced she wanted to play cards, and so I went and retrieved the Bible memory card game that I bought for a buck at the Dollar General a couple weeks ago. Again, she amazed me as she recognized and called out the names of most of the characters as I showed them to her one at a time. Jesus. David. Josiah. Mary and Joseph. Jonah and the Whale. Peter. Hannah. Lazarus. I made a mental note to look up Josiah and Hannah later since I couldn't immediately recall who they are.



When the doctor still hadn't called me, an hour-and-a-half after the answering service paged her, I called her office again. "Yes," I told them. "I can be there by 9:30" (fully aware there's no way I could be there in 25 minutes since I live a half hour away.)



On the way to the doctor, we sang our ABCs and we talked about going to Mary's house later. Then as we sat for another half hour in the waiting room, we flipped through the pages of a magazine, and Emma made the sounds of the animals we saw.



After we were called into the examination room, Emma pranced around in her Pull Up and socks identifying the objects and creatures pictured on the wall. Then, she started throwing her fist up in the air, and declaring "Amen" at the top of her lungs over and over again. Yes, that's right: she's was happy, she knew it, and so she was shouting "amen." I tried to persuade her to focus on the clapping or stomping verses, but of course, the yelling won out since that was much more fun.



So finally the doctor walked in, and of course, Emma instantly transformed into a mute. The doctor knows a nervous baby when she sees one, and so proceeded to calm her fears by checking out the ears and nose of Emma's Care Bear first. It worked. Despite a few wimpers that she wanted her mommy (which of course melted my heart) she stayed perfectly still while Dr. Batish examined her eyes, nose, throat, and ears.



The diagnosis? It's a bug bite. Not even a spider bite, just some random bug. She prescribed an antibiotic to avoid infection in the eye and said to pair it up with Benadryl.



If I thought Emma was in pain, I would wish the bug never bit her. But she seems oblivious to the whole ordeal. She just knows she had a really fun and happy morning.



And I did too.



So I'm thankful that little critter, wherever he might be. He changed what could have been a run-of-the-mill Monday morning. Because of him, I was blessed with a fun, happy, bonus day with the coolest almost-two-year-old in the world.



(P.S. The picture is from tonight -- the swelling has gone done significantly, but it still looks like she's got a shiner.)