If there were any concerns that The Darling Husband had about The Boy playing with hand-me-down Barbie or his cousin's dolls, I can safely dispel them today.

Upon switching the TV on this morning I noticed the Husband had left the PVR on a sports channel the night before. And before I could locate the remote and switch channels to Disney Junior (hot dawg!) The Boy had clapped his eyes on the current viewing sports material. He seemed to perk up and quickly requested that he "want to watch this, Mama!"

Now, you might think that the recent rugby re-runs or soccer games had caught his eye, maybe the crazy BMX shows we watched yesterday, but not quite.

It happened to be an insert on the Lingerie Football Leagues in the USA.

The Pink Panty Brigade aka Toronto Triumph





So. The Boy is so completely male, no need to worry.

And you can wipe that grin off your gorgeous Husband face.

A morning at the Red Cross Hospital

The day dawned bright and fresh with a light sprinkling of rain. I managed to drag the male population out of bed, feed some porridge into both of them and get them out of the house and into the car on time. On time!

Then we couldn't find the keys to open the gate.
Turns out that The Husband was sitting on them.

Right, we were finally mobile and on our way to visit the ENT at the Red Cross Children's Hospital. We needed to check out why The Boy has had so many recurring ear infections. We had an appointment for 9am. And I dislike being late.

Upon entering the foyer of the hospital I was reminded of my visits to Groote Schuur Hospital nearly 3 years ago. Crowds of people waiting to be seen, humid "breathed out" air and floors crying out for the sight of a mop greeted us. Thankfully we were directed upstairs where cheerful bright walls led us down crowded busy corridors. The most beautiful murals adorned the passages with an "Under the Sea" theme, where a magnificent whale spread the length of 5 seats, a yellow submarine disguised a fire hose and beautiful fish played side by side with the young patients running up and down the passages.

We reached the ENT room and were dismayed to see a roomful of people already seated and patiently waiting to see the specialists.
But we had a 9am appointment, right?
Well, it seemed that was just a formality, we could have pitched up at 7am or 11am, we would still have to wait.

I noticed parents armed with bags of chips and bottles of juice and all sharing a mission to see their children attended to. Hopefully still today.

With every appearance of a doctor picking up a file from the hefty pile we'd all crane our ears to hear our names being called. Some of those files were so thick and full of too many reports and tests that they had to be bound and fixed up with Winnie the Pooh tape. I tried to imagine the circumstances those children had found themselves in.

We found a bench outside the room in the corridor and tried to be patient.
And with every little person passing us by I sent a word of thanks to God.
Thank you, Lord that our child is healthy, that he is happy, that he is [what society accepts as] normal.

I saw children with mis-shapen heads, heads too big for their short little bodies, some too small, some children in wheel chairs, some with big bibs draped down their fronts to catch their drool, some with Downs and so many children with holes in their throats and vents allowing them to breathe easier. One little girl with a flat face and coke bottle glasses had webbed hands, almost like stumps only you could see the fingers embedded in the lump of flesh. That didn't stop her enjoying trying to catch the bubbles one of the well prepared dads was blowing in an attempt to entertain the utterly bored children. She laughed and shrilled her excitement when he blew bubbles in her direction meant especially for her.

Two and a half hours after our "appointment time" found us still waiting for our names to be called and "patiently" does not find itself in the same sentence anymore. All over the waiting room are signs declaring that the "first come, first served" method does not apply here but what other method is being put into practise? Patience is in short supply and my sense of humour is malfunctioning. To top it all, the Boy has eaten his last snack and is whining to get onto my back. Again. I haul him up and lug him to look at one of the posters up front. To my right I can see through swinging doors and the consulting rooms are beautiful. More fantastic murals adorn the walls, this time in a forest theme. The artist is gifted.
A tall pretty blonde doctor appears every so often to call patients through. I imagine The Husband hopes she gets to call us. Soon please.

I manage to sit on a little plastic chair and try my hand at colouring in with all the other kids. Luke sits on my lap and, while I was not paying attention, uses the green wax crayon as lip-ice. His face now sports an apple green version of Heath Ledger's Joker.

Shifting up on the bench to allow another mom to squeeze in, we met another young boy. Clearly mentally disabled, he came to say hello to Luke and take a closer look at Buzz Lightyear who was clutched, along with the last strawberry biscuit, in Luke's hand. He smiled and mumbled and produced a little car from his pocket to show Luke. Draping his arm over The Husband's knee he leans against Adrian and smiles his wet smile, displaying 2 discoloured front teeth. Flipping off his hoodie he sports a neat shaven haircut but marring the child's head were several large bald shiny scars indicating vicious past wounds. Again I wondered what this child has had to experience in his young life.

Finally, finally we get called. We don't get a glimpse of the murals but we get to see a lady doctor with beautiful thick eyelashes. She examines Luke's throat and ears and declares that he has "glue ear". Mucous behind his eardrum dulls his hearing slightly and she recommends we come see her in three months time to check if there has been any further hearing loss. Only then will they consider putting grommets** in. The thought of another long morning depresses me but I agree to the appointment. She enquires about his current hearing, his speech and vocabulary and whether he snores and sneezes more than normal. I tell her that he has had numerous ear infections since +- 8 months of age. She replies that children normally have 2 to 6 infections a year and if the child is in creche that figure is often even higher. It is normal.
The Prevnar* vaccine we had given to him 6 weeks ago is hopefully kicking in and will prevent so many recurring infections and courses of anti-biotics. And possibly a small surgery. Holding thumbs!

We head home for lunch, quiet in our thoughts of what we have seen and thankful for our blessings.
Meanwhile The Boy chatters away in the back seat about the motorbikes and trucks he sees and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and "Mommy, whats that?" and biscuits and birdies and Toy Story... Blissful normal things. Thank you.


* http://www.prevnar13.com/

**http://www.hph.co.za/helpful-medical-topics/ent-surgery/grommets.html