Cue the Mice

Seamus awoke howling in the early morning hours this past Thursday, but not for the usual reason. Usually it is because Mini Tooper has fallen from his clutches in his sleep. This time it was because his cracking toes were throbbing painfully. He had been wearing his green, frog-face rainboots most of the previous week (see Suburban Cowboys, below), usually without socks. He insisted, we caved. They are the only footwear he can get on and keep on by himself. Like so many things about parenting, it seemed like a good idea at the time—or at least a reasonable way to avoid hysteria. By Wednesday this haphazard cobbling had taken its toll. The poor boy had taken up lame, and uncomfortably so. Only when Mary took him to the doctor on Saturday did we discover—to our chagrin but not to our surprise—that this was not merely chafing, but raging athlete’s foot.

Not that she took him to the doctor because his toes hurt. No, that was for the double-ear infection. Earlier in the week, a different doctor had confirmed for us that Seamus is allergic to cats and dust mites. And so it was that following Saturday’s doctor’s visit, Mary reported to the pharmacy for a shopping spree, coming home with unguents, potions and vapors to treat him head to toe. It is fair to say that Seamus is a mess.

The mystery is how a boy can appear so robust and yet suffer so many maladies, or perhaps it is how he can require so many prescriptions despite his evident vigor . We are chalking it up to false spring—several times in the past six weeks we have had a day or two of warmth followed by a week of cold rain. It raises bodily expectations subsequently thwarted.

Booker has held up relatively well. If it weren’t for the faint clownish rash around his mouth—the result of a recently acquired nervous habit of licking his chops—you wouldn’t know he has been sniffling all winter.

In any case, the cherry blossoms have blossomed, so maybe the real thing is upon us, and we are on the road to Wellville at last.

As for Junie, she is gone. Jussara picked her up yesterday and carted her away to her new home in distant Crofton. So long, kitty. We’ll miss you. Exit cat. Cue the mice, stage left.