White Lightning Axiom: Redux: Explosive

Thursday, July 22, 2004



I had to be home yesterday for circumstances beyond my control.  It all started Tuesday afternoon after I had played out the work day and was going through the post-work child recovery routine.  The owner of the day care pooped out of one of the rooms and caught my attention.  The first thing out of her mouth was that Jacob could not come to day-car tomorrow.  I was caught off guard and could only think that he had either assaulted some other child or caused some kind of catastrophic damage to his class room such that it was either condemned by the county or by the Christian coalition.  He can be like that sometimes.  As it turns out, the reason for the expulsion was that he had four loose bowel movements and they had an odor to them that indicated a GI virus of some sort.  Great.  He has the poops so he has to stay home.  Another day-care professional (I use that term loosely) had joined the conversation as a prop.  She would stand there and nod her head vigorously to promote the truth of whatever was being said.  This is what happens when you spend 11 hours of your day surrounded by hordes of developing neurotic.   Sooooo, she indicated that he may have been exposed to someone who has it right now or from a pet lizard or that he ate some bad food.  He will need to go on a 'Brad Diet' and the Doctors at our pediatrician office will probably tell you that.  And I had to get Jacob there ASAP.  Ok, I actually trust this woman.  I'm almost certain that Jacob got this virus from eating wood mulch in the play yard and not from the lizard that we apparently now own.  I am certainly not shooting food our my rear minutes after I eat it, and neither is anyone else in our family.  So I grab The Twins and shuttle them off to the awaiting Cryp-Mobile for the trip home.  I make a quick call to Mrs MDMHVONPA and let her know that she needs to call the Doctor to make an emergency appointment.  She does this stuff because for some reason, she has managed to memorize the chart numbers for both of the Tax Deductions as well as every name, birth date, anniversary and SS# of every one of my relatives.  Even my 3rd cousins.  She remembers all this and I can barely remember my Hero Dad's birthday.  At least I know that Light is both a wave and a particle and thus can be described under both paradigms.  Useful, eh?  Anyways, the Mrs is delayed for a half hour in getting home due to (perpetual)  local traffic congestion, but has managed to secure an 8pm appointment, which is right about the time that the kids are supposed to be bathed and getting ready for bed.  This will be interesting.  Right about the time that she gets through the security gate and makes her way down the great hall of the Haupertionian World HQ Manor, one of the on-call nurses from the Pediatrician's for Intestinally Insane Toddlers calls on the phone.  She wants to know if the Mrs is home, but asks for her by her Maiden name.  She never changed her name and it baffles many people who do not know this.  We will save this topic for a different time, but this is usually how these conversations go:

"Is Mrs Chin-Chow-Ng-Song there?"

"No, she is in transit, her AC-130 Mega-Attack Gunship will be landing any moment now, can I help you?"

"Is this Mr Chin-Chow-Ng-Song?"

"No, this is Mr MDMHVONPA, what can I do for you?"

"Umm, can I leave a message or talk to her husband?"

"I am her husband, do you still want to leave a message?"

"Ohhh, ok."

I guess I could be more forthcoming in the beginning, but I always seem to forget the whole last name thing until it smacks me in the face.  So I talk to the Nurse on call, and she asks some pretty interesting questions that I try to answer as best as possible.  Some of these are things I would not expect to be asked.  Is he complaining?  I guess, though he is a pretty tough nugget and you pretty much have to either hit him upside the head with a 2x4 to get him to flinch.  Is his BM watery?  So say the daycare professionals.  Is he melancholy?  Ummm, hard to say.  Is he complaining of stomach pain?  Ok, he is pre-speech so he really can't elucidate that kind of specifics.  At this point, I start to think that they are trying to get me to talk to a 2 yr old like he is 9.  I try to explain that the specimen in question is not able to divulge that kind of information and our only clue is the reported frequency and consistency of the diaper contents.  The nurse is a pretty good talker though and I have a difficult time finding a break in her words to interject.  She must have a circular breathing, she is still yammering on about what he can and can't eat and how long the virus can last and where it comes from and yada-yada-yada.  I finally catch a break when the Mrs makes it to the Grand Dining Room and I am asked to take his temperature.  I manage to pitch the phone over to Mrs MDMHVONPA who then dives into an identical conversation for the next 15 minutes.  This is a lifetime when you have two howling hungry mouths to feed and you cannot give one anything that it usually gets stuffed with.  As it turns out, Jacob will have his diet restricted to salty snacks  like crackers or pretzels, pasta, apples, banannas and yogurt.   No milk or fruit drinks.  We try to get some pedialite in him, but that goes over like we are trying to give him a bleach-acid cocktail.  He gets a bottle of water which he tosses aside and a few containers of yogurt.  In spite of the warning, we give him some ice-cream too.  If he is going to be miserable for the next week, we might as well give him one last moment of bliss before-hand.  Kind of like a last-meal type of mercy.  Later on, the Mrs and Jacob the Discontent Incontinent go off to the appointment.  This perturbs Alexis to no end.  She is never happy when she sees anybody leave the room.  Im not sure what causes this, but it is no small task trying to sneak out of the room with her brother in tow.  After a few moments of wailing and shrieking, we resume the nightly schedule.  Play, Bath, Bottle, Bed.  She seems to do ok, even though she inquires as to the apparent lack of her nemisis.  Brothers, cant live with 'em, can't smack 'em in the head with the nearest available toy (while the parental units are watching).  As soon as she nods off, I change into my grungy work clothing and head out to the watch-tower/Tashma Hall construction site.  Since I will have about 15-30 minutes to myself, I will try to add a few more blocks to the retaining wall.  As in the construction of the Pyramids, I get my countless army of uncompensated workers to lug over 6 blocks and drop them into place.  The engineers and architects verify that it is level and in line.  About the time that the 4th block is droped into place, The Mrs calls to let me know that they are returning home.  While I was not watching, 30 or so workers got crushed under the block which will now be their tomb.   Their sacrifice will further the cause of the GREAT HAUPERTONIAN RETAINING WALL.  We quickly set blocks 5 and 6 in place and then break for the night.  No sooner did I get cleaned up, the expedition returns home and we start to prep Jacob for his bed-time.   A little different for him since we need to feed him yogurt instead of milk and he will be dressed in the Master Suite so that he does not wake his sister.  He takes this opportunity to wreak havoc and generally be himself until we tire of his antics and put him in his Detention Cell.


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