Revenge is supposed to be sweet…

So why do I not feel pleasure? I guess because there’s no way revenge can ever feel satisfying, when the object (or would he be the subject? I suppose subject is more appropriate) of that vengeance is a 19-month-old child. Particularly when it’s your own child. Revenge taken against some anonymous airline or bus passenger toddler, while still cruel, and for the most part inexcusable, is at least less fraught with schadenfreude, than revenge carried out on one’s own genetic material.*

Some background: Daddy went on a business trip last weekend; the trip was fine, yadda yadda yadda, but it would have been a lot nicer if I hadn’t been taking decongestant and expectorant for days, as a result of Eric’s endearing habit of sharing his viruses with all and sundry, particularly those with whom he comes into close contact. Read me. And mommy.

About the only thing keeping me going on my late-night drive home from Miami** was the thought that, at long last when I got  to the end of the road, I’d have someone there to take care of me.

But Monday morning, guess who wakes up feeling miserable? (Besides me, I mean.) That’s right. Mrs. Amateur Naturalist. Turns out that after a long weekend alone closely closeted with the TCT (terribly cute toddler), one is apt to succumb to whatever bugs he’s dealing. And so, after spending Wednesday through Sunday alone with the lad, about the only thing keeping Mommy going was the idea that, at the end of his long road, Daddy would be coming home to take care of the family…

So yes, both Mommy and Daddy were taken down this week by our sweet little boy. But this morning we got some small measure of revenge, although, as mentioned above, it really isn’t satisfying to wreak vengeance on the little guy. We took him to the doctor’s office for his regularly scheduled MMR vaccination, and, as an added bonus, the seasonal flu shot as well.*** The H1N1 mist/shot either wasn’t available, or we opted not to get it at this time, or something. I forget. Nevertheless, one intramuscular and one subdermal injection. Take that, you little immunoterrorist!

There, there. Don’t cry. Please stop crying. Daddy’s here. Er, Mommy’s here. Well, we’re both here, in case you feel like stopping that crying. Did it really hurt that much? As usual, he was indignant at this violation of his human rights, but he recovered quickly after the needles were withdrawn. He’s really a trouper!

You can see below his twin badges of courage:

As a bonus to those of you who’ve read this far, here’s a movie clip of what it’s like living with Eric. Twirling, twirling. [Double-click the image to start and stop the movie; still trying to figure out how to get the controls to show with embedded QuickTime files…]

* Of course referring to one’s offspring as “genetic material” is dehumanizing. Haven’t you heard of humor?

**A double thank-you to American Airlines, by the way: thanks for not having a nonstop flight out of PBI or FLL, and thanks again for delaying my departure by 2.5 hours, which turned an evening arrival at home into a midnight arrival. Grr!

***And in case you’re wondering, we do not subscribe to the ridiculous belief that vaccinations are a danger to one’s health. The people who do are not just loopy, intellectually sloppy, or slow. They are endangering the lives of others with their scientifically indefensible brand of crazy. Like hypodermic needles, those yahoos really get under my skin. That this brand of ignorance has surfaced recently shows how far our society has come since polio and other common diseases have been eradicated from this hemisphere. Why don’t you come along with me next time I’m in India, and ask anyone there if they’d like to be free of polio? Grrrr. Take a public health class.

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