Toby seems to have adopted a new policy not dissimilar to the 80’s anti-drugs campaign.
The basic premise appears to be “The answer to everything is NO”
And it goes something like this:
“Do you want any breakfast Toby?”
“Can i change your nappy Toby?”
“Do you want to go on the potty Toby?”
“Shall we get dressed Toby?”
“Did you have a nice day Toby?”
“What do you want for dinner Toby?”
Demonstrating quite clearly i think, that it doesn’t even matter if “NO!” doesn’t make any sense as a response. In fact, to be perfectly honest, i’m not sure he even listens to the question half the time, it’s like “NO!” has become a reflex response to hearing the lilt in either of our voices that signifies a question has been asked.
Sometimes there’s an addition of “My don’t want to!” or “My will not!” or “My just can’t!”, just to spice things up a bit.
It’s, well how can i put it…a tad tiresome…a bit wearing…f*cking annoying!
I am guessing it’s his age. Either a last minute installment of “The Terrible Two’s” or a sneak preview of what life will be like when he’s a “Threenager”.
Either way, it’s most excellent and has timed up so well with Rudy being ill. Don’t ask me what’s wrong with him because i don’t know. Probably a virus. Just as Toby has a blanket policy of answering everything with “NO!” most GP’s seem to have a similar policy of answering everything with “A virus” or, occasionally, rather patronisingly “Teething”.
Like you’d choose to spend your Sunday morning in a dull, crowded, air-conditioned-to-fuck waiting room killing time until it’s your turn to see the (slightly bizarre) out of hours doctor if you thought, on any level, that it could just be teething. I wouldn’t mind but the bloody doctor then ignored my protestations that oral thrush doesn’t cause a fever, explained it away with a wave of the hand and “Teething” and then started quizzing me on my nipples and offering to examine them. Erm, no ta.
The conversation went something like this:
“What are your nipples like?”
“So they’re not red, dry, sore, cracked, blistered, scaly or weeping?…”
“No, they’re fine.” (See what i wanted to say here was “Jesus, wtf?! Who would describe they’re nipples as fine, if in fact they were scaly…or weeping?!”)
“Have you brought someone else with you today?”
“Hmm, i see. Because normally i’d ask someone to come in here with us so i could examine your nipples…do you want me to examine your nipples”
“No, that’s ok thanks. They’re fine”
I don’t know how many times i must have described my nipples as “fine” before he took the hint and stopped offering to check them out.
In the end we left with some nystatin for Rudy’s mouth (he really did have a bad case of oral thrush bless him) and none the wiser as to why he had such a high temp.
Then yesterday i stripped him off and discovered a red pin prick rash all over him, and i mean everywhere, that had somehow developed in the two hours since his previous nappy change. It was 4pm, dinner was in the oven and Chris was getting ready to head out for a night shift. Bad timing indeed.
I decided to chance my luck with our Dr’s surgery rather than face the possibility of another encounter with the nipple-enthusiast at the out of hours. Luckily the words “Ten month old baby, rash and fever” are like an incantation when it comes to GP’s i have discovered. Not only had i had my phonecall returned and been offered to be seen immediately if i came to the surgery now, but i’d also been there, had Rudy fully checked over, and was back home eating my dinner within an hour. Now that’s service! No mention of nipples either! Always a bonus. The good news of course being that it doesn’t seem to be anything serious. Yes he has a low grade temp and a rash and a bit of oral thrush, and no he’s not quite himself, but otherwise he checks out as a clinically well healthy baby.
So we’ve got a grumpy spotty babe and a toddler who has become a little too fond of the word “No”: not the best start to our Summer Fun but it’s salvageable i reckon.