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Tuesday, Jan. 17, 2017 - 12:52 p.m.


This morning we slept in and then spent like 2 hours trying to figure out what was wrong with U, who abruptly developed acute lower abdomen pain. He didn't want anyone to touch him, wouldn't let me lift him, wouldn't get up, was crying constantly and sweating from pain. Papa, the retired pediatrician, was brought in to examine him (against U's will, but it seemed like a serious situation). Was is severe constipation? Appendicitis? Should we call his doctor or take him straight to the ER? His diaper was still dry and he hadn't eaten anything yet. Should we let him eat? Then he indicated that the pain was lower down.

I got his permission to lift him and put him on potty. He is mostly still in a diaper, but has been going consistently in the morning, anyway.

He peed. And peed. And peed. And when he was done, he was totally fine and all pain gone.

Cue gales of internal laughter and deep relief. No one warned me that I'd have to micromanage someone's bodily processes so closely as a part of this parenting gig.

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