Last night Ethan was telling me he was hungry and I was working on dinner for all of us solid food eaters as well as trying to get Eliza's cereal fixed and baby food thawed out. Multi tasking - it's what I do best. He was whining off and on and then about 5 minutes before I was putting the food on our plates he laid down in the floor in front of me and started crying telling me his BELLY HURT SO BAD HE WAS GOING TO DDDDDDDDIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!! Um, ok Ethan. Pick yourself up, your food is on the table, go forth and eat. So he sits down with us still whimpering and whining. We all start eating and he starts crying; a hard, alligator tear kind of cry. Telling me his stomach was hurting soooooo bad! Now, I get it. He is hungry. So I start feeding him because he tells me he can't take his arms off his belly to lift his spoon. Um, ok. Here's a bite. So I feed him about 5 bites of corn and he literally starts screaming again about how much pain he is in. So Chris and I look at each other and think, hmmm....what if???? So I pick him up, because he tells me he can't walk, I carry him to the car, buckle him in and off to urgent care we go. Now, thank goodness we have urgent care these days, because when I was a kid it would have been the emergency room at the cost of about $150, urgent care is only $35. Which by the way, Chris and I can have a wonderful meal from Outback for $35. To which we haven't in quite sometime. Just wanted to point that out.
So we get to urgent care, I fill out all the paperwork. He calms down a bit to lay in the chair and watch tv until it is our turn. The nurse calls us back and we go into a room. He starts asking what is wrong, I try to remain serious and drop the sarcasm, but really, Ethan could have been nominated for a emmy for the acting he was putting on at home. Remarkably, he is much calmer now. He takes all his vital signs. Yep, he has a heart beat. Yep, he is getting plenty of oxygen. Yep, his blood pressure is fine. Nope, no fever. So the doctor comes in and again, I am trying to tell the story the best I can without rolling my eyes and feeling like an idiot. The doctor goes to examine Ethan and everything appears fine. He talks to Ethan about where he is hurting, what happened to make it hurt, etc. And in the end the diagnosis was hunger. Hunger. $35 worth of hunger. The doctor, playing the devil's advocate gave Ethan a shot of Mylanta "just in case it was gas" (yes, I was rolling my eyes - this kid toots as much as his father, it wasn't gas). Then as the doctor was leaving the room, he said "Be sure and grab a lollipop on your way out." You. Have. Got. To. Be. Kidding. Me. A lollipop, I thought? Ethan smiled and I said don't even think about it.
This was the conversation when we got home.
Ethan: I think I want to eat my taco and corn now.
Me: Too bad, daddy has already cleaned up dinner and it is your bath time.
Ethan: But the doctor said I was hungry.
Me: Yep, and maybe you will think about that tomorrow night when we sit down for dinner.
See if he gets those $80 jeans one day.
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