A trip to the Doc

The chilly wet weather warranted a bundling, so Z was sporting his silver kicks and fleecey sweat suit. He was ready for a rap video, or the 100 yard dash - either one. The first thing on our adjenda was a birthday celebration for Erin's 30th. We swung by Erin's digs to pick her up and cruised over to the East Side (cafe) for some home cookin'. Mom had the trout, Erin had shrooms and Z had hot milk. Z had a little meltdown before steppin' out into the cold again, but pretty short lived and nothing a second pass at the milk bar couldn't cure.
Next stop, Doc Hughes' office. Nothing but happy news to start with - Z is in the 50th percentile for length and head size, and the 75th percentile for his weight. (Those late night snacks are paying off.) Then the evil witch came in, and stabbed his little thighs 4 different times with 4 different vaccinations. Poor boy screamed with pain and cried his little baby tears. Mama let out a few big mama tears, too, after the nurse left. But, it was nothing a third pass at the milk bar couldn't cure, given the time to catch his breath and reassess the situation.
Little Z is presently napping off the day's earlier action and trauma. Ma has the infant tylenol at the ready, in case his little thighs start to ache again. Guess that means he won't be sprinting in his new kicks. Both of us are glad that we won't have to go through that again any time soon.