Flesh Eating Disease

Before I begin this post, I need to give props to Michael for letting me tell the story. It says a lot about Michael's character and his ability to laugh at himself, especially considering a person at work may read this post.

In most marriages, I think it is pretty standard that mom is the one who worries more about the children's health. We are the exception to that rule. Michael is a hard core worrier if he believes the children are sick or injured.

One evening a few days back, I walked into the family room. Right away I noticed that Choo's nose and one of her cheek's was red.

"Hey Mike, did you notice her face?"

Mike carefully examined Choo's face. 

"What do you think it is?"  Mike threw a question back to me.

"I have no idea.  She was fine when I went to take a shower."

I watched Michael's face as he continued to glance at Choo through the evening.  He was stewing, imagining the worst.

"Do you think we ought to take her in?", Michael asked.

"I don't know, I think she is fine.  Why don't you give her some allergy meds?  Maybe she is having an allergic reaction to something."  I had to offer some remedy as I could tell my hubby was clearly troubled.

Meanwhile, I put Buzz and Puff to bed.  Michael stayed up with Choo in the front room.  At one point, I turned off the light.  He told me to turn the light back on so he could keep track of any changes on Choo's face.

"How does her face look?"  It was the first question Michael asked me the next morning.

"I don't know?  About the same," I shrugged.

"Do you think we should take her to the doctor?  Do you think she has that flesh eating disease?"

Really Michael, we just went from possible allergy to flesh eating disease.

"No it is not the flesh eating disease.  That thing moves fast.  Some of her limbs would have fallen off by now!", I replied.

In my head I was thinking, "Am I not a good mom?  Should I be more concerned about this?"

"I'm going to take the kids to school and then I will be back," Michael informed me.

"I will call the doctor and get her in today Michael."

I scheduled the appointment for early that afternoon.  It coincided with my rescheduled mammogram so Michael had to take her.

Later Michael called me after the pediatrician's appointment.  I was on the way to my mammogram.

"Well?" I said.

"When Dr. ______ saw me, I told him I knew my wife had probably told him that I was a worrier."


(For the record, I have told the doctor this several times as every time I bring one of the three children in for whatever reason, I am accompanied by a list of questions from Michael for me to ask the doctor.

"And the doctor's diagnosis?" I asked.

"He said it looked like a scratch; and to put Neosporin on it to prevent infection."

If this was the entire story, it is funny enough, but there is more to the story.

That evening Michael is giving Choo a bath in the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom.  I am on the computer in our bedroom.   I hear the following conversation.

"Dad, I won't do that again to my nose with the hairbrush."

"What?"

"I won't do that again to my nose with the hairbrush,"  Choo echoed.

"You mean you scratched your nose with the hairbrush?" Daddy asked incredulously.

"Yeah!"

"Why didn't you tell me this before I took you to the doctor's?"

"I don't know", Choo replied.

"But don't tell Mom", Choo added.

I was laughing so hard!

And later that same evening, I asked Choo, "So how did you hurt your nose?"

"I don't know", she replied innocently.

I love this story!  I love my worrier husband and I love my little Choo!

TOO  FUNNY!