So Glad I held my tongue

This Morning, M’s face did not look like a puffy pumpkin of pain.  But the first thing he said was, “Mom, I don’t want to take my medicine…”

My mind crowded with outrage at yesterday’s long chat on the phone straightening out who our insurance is; the hurried goodbye to our cousins who had driven down from Cambridge for B’s Spanish Lesson; the frantic drive to the nurse practitioner’s office (not after all at our regular doctor’s office, I drove past it and doubled back); and the long wait in the waiting room full of my nerves that I hadn’t brought him in sooner and would I be scolded followed by a long wait at the pharmacy to treat his poison ivy near his eye – but I didn’t say what I was thinking as M continued,

“I have to go to the bathroom.”


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