The Scene: A crowded doctor's office full of a stuffy, cranky, clingy Mollybird and similar peers.
Daisy: I'm worried about her congestion. She's rattly. And her dad says she pulled at her ears.
Dr. Who Reminds Me of Wendy, an old friend: Let's see here. *looks in ears* Ouch. Oh yeh, they're really bad. I'm going to give you some amoxicillin.
Daisy: *granola and college credit hours oozing from every pore* I just read that most ear infections are viral (nod @alexis)... I hate to use antibiotics we don't need. Can you culture her ears to make sure?
Dr. Wendy-esque: We don't do that culture here because you have to stick a needle into her eardrum and
Daisy: Yeah, nevermind. Antibiotics are fine. K Thx Bai. *slinks away, granola left scattered on the floor pouting. Then baby freaks out, and the boob is out, and the granola puffs up a little bit again as Proud and Yet Not In Your Face Public Toddler Nursing Mama takes over.*
So we are doing the antibiotics and I'll get some yogurt for her yoni and the gawdawful rash that will probably ensue. And now I'm off to another doctor visit, this time for my yoni, for Ye Olde Pap Smear and probably me losing even more crunchy points by begging for birth control pills that will make me be not a demonic bitch-face for 25% of my life. And also assure that the reign of the Triangle Family can continue inhindered by extra accidental babies happening.