I get there and all three kids are asleep. Yeah. So I put Melody in the stroller, figuring she has the best odds of sleeping through the whole thing. Dixie weighs too much--she simply must wake up and walk. Charlie gets carried.
Melody does not stay asleep. Girls are not behaving. It is a very small room with three very loud children. We do the hokey-pokey. Several times. Dixie keeps explaining Charlie's injury to everyone in sight.
Charlie weighs 23 lbs, 14 oz, by the way, and is 23 months old. Melody weighed that at about 30 months. Both of my biological children are peanuts.
The nurse starts asking questions, and let me interject that I LOVE the people at our pedi's office. They engage the girls in conversation, but don't actually believe what they say. Today, I am particularly grateful for this, as Melody and the nurse had the following chat.
Nurse: Are you Charlie's big sisters?
Melody: Yes. I like to tickle my brother. It makes him laugh.
Nurse: That's sweet of you. I bet you're a good big sister.
Melody: Yes, I tickle him on his faaaavorite tickle spot.
Nurse: Oh, really? Where is that?
Melody: On his penis.
After a quick call to Dowlan to clean up and prepare for the arrival of Child Protective Services, (somewhat kidding), the doctor comes in.
I am basically told that there isn't anything that can be done for Charlie's tongue. More stitches would create a greater risk for secondary infection than it would be worth it. We could go see a surgeon, but it would be pretty much cosmetic. He is so young that it shouldn't interfere with his speech.
In summation, Charlie will someday have a very cool tongue with which to freak out the other kids on the playground and, as an added bonus, is unlikely to ever get his tongue pierced.