I don't know about you, but my idea of mid-week excitement isn't watching the kid break out in hives, and racing him into town to the doctor. By, "town", I mean Omaha (ok, make a damn joke if you can't control yourself...I'll wait). We still have no clue what caused them (no new foods, detergents, anything really) but he's loaded up with antihistamines and hydro-cortisone cream. The paediatrician said these kinds of hives are called something like "script hives", because in the Middle Ages they would connect the dots, and spell out "Satan" and decide if the person was possessed by demons. He said this with only the slightest hint of a smirk, and without laughing. Clearly, our paediatrician is fucking awesome, because you know what kind of a reaction that would get with some people around here...and he said it anyway. I bought Danny a box of brand-name popsicles because when you have hives (or demon possession), you get the real Bomb Pops, not that no-name sugar water shit in a plastic tube.
So we're paying for our cortisone cream at the pharmacy, and the old woman at the check-out looks at Danny's name and says, "That sounds like a cartoon character." Which I dunno, maybe it was, in 1920 or something. Danny wasn't amused, but then I told him how when we sent out the birth announcements Raymond thought his name sounded like a good name for a serial killer. Strangely enough, Danny was pleased with that. Little boys are funny, huh?
Personally, I think he needs a Mob moniker, like Danny "Boom Boom Spots" Eat The Blog. That would be really badass.
Anyway, don't think I'll be getting anything fancy on the table for dinner tonight-good thing my freezer is stocked with burritos.