Yes, I’m aware that there is a deadly hurricane blowing up New Orleans’ skirts right now. And I’d have to be in a coma not to know about the Republican National Convention bellowing even as I write this. I’ll attend to these things later.
Right now The Perfect Grandson is covered stem to stern in seed tick bites. That is the immediate situation here behind the suburban brick wall, and it’s got me worried sick.
Bear with me here. It took an hour and a half for his mama to remove seed ticks with a pair of steady tweezers. Hundreds of them, tiny, and most on Very Delicate Places. A five year-old boy (or any boy, really) should NEVER have to endure such pain or close inspection.
I don’t have to explain the whole Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever/Lyme Disease/Tularemia paranoia to most of you, because I’m fairly certain you thought about it two paragraphs up. So far, no big fever, no scary joint pain – nothing to make me go into full blown Mimi-panic. He’s got two pairs of worried woman-eyes staring him down, so there’s not much we’ll miss.
How did he get into all these ticks? Ask his grandfather. Same guy who visited his son at Children’s hospital some 25 years ago because that little five year-old boy had Tick Fever.
I’ve written on this blog for five years without bringing up anything about the man, good or bad, and it was on purpose. I’m breaking that vow of silence right now.
When you’re given insect repellant, use it. This is Arkansas in August and you are a grown man who should know better. Take care of the boy when you’re given the gift of his company, or I will fly at you like a witch unhinged.
Just like I used to.
Sorry about that, folks. I’ll let you get back to your hurricane watch and that Republican soiree.
No Telling 
Poor baby.
Sweet baby. I hope that Grand-dad as twice as many ticks.
Poor little dude! Aren't ex-husbands just the best?
Grandaddy needs more than ticks, but I'm banking that karma will win out. I'm patient like that.
The Perfect Grandson is a bit better today. Benadryl is a wonder drug and five year-old boys are resilient.
Oh poor thing. Grandad should've had to pull them off!
Grandad just called from Disney World. Wanted to know if The Perfect Grandson wanted him to bring something back.
I'll say no more.
Holy crap that's gotta hurt. Poor baby. Grandpa should be tarred and feathered. Just saying…
Exactly.
I come by from time to time to read a story or two you have written.I enjoy your unique way with words. This might sound strange. When I am reading your posts I always have a smile on my face even when it is a sad or serious story. Anyway, before I forget the other reason I am writing here was to ask you a question. As i was scrolling down the page to find the comment I couldn't help but notice your neat row of buttons. And I was curious as to how in the hell you went about getting them and placing them in your blog. Try as I may I haven't been able get one in where you have several. The only way I ever figure these tech things out is stumbling on them by accident.Your help would be appreciated.
I keep messing this up, Nicholas. Click on this link: ShareThis
It worked! Okay, click on that link, then follow the directions. It's easy-peasy and you can choose from different button sizes and styles. it practically installs itself. Let me know how you like it!