It started off like most other mornings--Lidia's off to work, I'm alone with the boys until Karen arrives, and hilarity ensues. Well, that, and usually a bit of crying here and there--usually just jealous-rivalry-stuff. But when Carter started shrieking during Nathaniel's bottle time, it was clearly not the standard scenario. Carter cried at escalating levels for 45 minutes straight until Karen arrived, and then for a half hour with her after that.
I had yet another "mandatory meeting" at my workplace (which turned out to be attended by half of those invited, and started late) so it was up to Lidia to arrange an emergency appointment with the ever-reliable Dr. P. It wasn't until Carter's shoes were removed that it was revealed that his left foot--or rather, one of his left toes--was the source of his grief. He'd developed an infection around a toenail that when squeezed into his shoe, was agonizing for a person of any age and size.
Soon, he was back home and back to his silly self. Nathaniel napped out at his usual time, but the newly-recharged Carter held on a bit longer, playing with Dad's robot from "Day The Earth Stood Still" ("light"!) and exploring the living room.
By evening, order was restored--as much order as life with twin near-two-year-olds can afford, that is. Carter will have to deal with a week's worth of awful antibiotic--which he isn't taking to terribly well--but his running and jumping haven't been affected, or infected, in the least...
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