Last Friday Gianluca had his six-month checkup. I didn't have any concerns to discuss with the doctor, so Sam took him to the appointment, while I planned to stay home with him in the afternoon. Our baby is happy, relatively healthy, chubby, vocal, energetic: everything a six-month-old baby should be...or is he? When Sam pulled up at my office after the appointment, he looked like he'd been hit by a truck driven by his dead grandmother.
APPARENTLY, Gianluca's ears are infected, and the infection is so bad, his right eardrum ruptured. The doctor scooped out an ungodly amount of wax and crud from the ear canal while Sam watched in horror, and then prescribed an elephant-powerful antibiotic to kill the infection. During the excavation, the doctor was incredulous that we had not noticed the amount of pain our baby has been in.
ALSO, Luca fell off his growth curve, way off. He has gained only one pound in the last three months. That's a problem. Sam explained that we'd been trying to start Luca on solids, but he acts like he's not ready. He cries when he sees the spoon coming and spits out the food. "Keep trying," was the doctor's advice. We'll be mixing his organic rice cereal with lard from now on.
AND THEN, just to lay down the buttercream frosting on the Screw-Your-Parental-Confidence Cake, the doctor pointed out that Gianluca's teeth are coming in wrong. He's supposed to have two up-two down, but he has four on the bottom. Thanks, doc, that was necessary.
In conclusion, our seemingly sweet and content baby is actually suffering from a bubbling cesspool inside his head, starving to death, and possibly a mutant. Good to know.