We Knew This Day Would Come

I finally got around to taking and posting Father's Day pictures of Matt and Patrick. Aren't my boys adorable?

In reference to the title, it has finally happened. What, you ask? What has happened that is as gloomy as the title suggests? Patrick figured out what those painful little white things on his gums are for. Yep, he bit me. He's bit my fingers numerous times, yet somehow never associated my immediate yelp and the subsequent removal of my finger from his mouth with the sharp, pointy things in his mouth that he had embedded in said finger.

Yesterday he was almost done eating when my mom called. I picked up the phone, and Patrick immediately smiled as though he knew it was Nana on the other end. Then to make sure I was still paying attention to him, he chomped down hard--while he was still smiling, no less. The action was most certainly deliberate. My conversation with my mom went like this:

Me: Hi, Mom!

Mom: Hi! How are you?

Me: I'm fine. OOWWWWWW!!! No, Patrick, don't bite Mommy!

Mom: (suppressing laughter) He finally bit you, did he?

Me: (suppressing tears of pain) (through clenched teeth) Yes.

Mom: (suppressing more laughter) What goes around comes around! (or something to that effect)

Ok, my mom wasn't really that rude about it. She was really quite supportive, because, you see, she knows exactly what I'm going through. Apparently I was a biter too. Could that be genetic?

By the way, he did bite me again the next time he ate, and on the same side too (is it possible he holds a grudge against that boob for some reason?), but I firmly told him no that time and gave him a little swat on the diaper. He hasn't bit me since. Let's hope that lesson made it into his long-term memory. I'm not in the mood to repeat it any time soon.

Patrick is almost out of one of his acid reflux medicines. I just got online to refill it, but it said that it was too soon to get it refilled. I guess when the pediatrician called in refills last time, they did not inform the pharmacist that they've upped his dosage on it to more than twice what it says on the label. That means he goes through it twice as fast, which would explain why they won't let us refill it yet--they think he should have another few weeks' worth left. I guess a call to the pediatrician is in order again. This really shouldn't even be an issue. How hard is it to keep the pharmacist informed about how much medicine Patrick should be taking? Shouldn't that be in his records or something? It's so frustrating to me when lapses in communication happen that are entirely out of my control, yet I'm the one who ends up going out of my way to fix the problem. So I'd better end the rant and get to it now. This issue won't clear itself up.