So Malcolm's alleged "molar" issues aren't those at all. After anoth night full of fits and bad sleeping for everyone (Lyss on the recliner with the boy, me on the couch at the ready), we took him to daycare. Jenn said he had an epic nap, sleeping from 9:30 to 1:30 this afternoon. Cat had said that this wasn't a nap as much as it was a temporary coma. When I picked him up after work, I noticed a rash. When I got home, Lyss insisted that we call the sawbones. After a detailed conversation of me answering yes/no questions, the conclusion was drawn that we take him to the emergency room. After a relatively short time with an awesome, knowledgable doctor with a tie-dye t-shirt and a very cool nurse with SpiderMan stickers, the diagnosis wasn't molars or an ear infection... it was Strep Throat! Apparently, his tonsils are swollen and white, and the rash and fever he's been devoping are side effects of his immune system cleaning house. Poor guy.
The positive note is that I'll get to spend my afternoon with him tomorrow, and I will probably get to watch twenty one hours of geeky movies (Star Wars and Lord of the Rings). Plus, the bittersweet side effect is the fact that the triedand tested theory of daddy being joy and mommy being comfort is starting to evolve... the comfort of daddy is becomming somewhat more prevalent (much to mommy's shagrin).
With a kid, every day is an adventure. My friend Ryan once told me that the Hebrews believe that a man isn't really a man until he's fathered a kid. Any male can do that, but I'm finding that really being involved with the process is as much a testament to that statement as pregnancy is to a degree. Women are typically cited with the brunt of the burdon, but this boy has taught me how much a dad can mean to a kid, and how much a man can grow as a result.