It's Not a Train!

Eliot, Naomi and I spent part of the morning at the clinic. Since I wrote that post about how great Mother's Day was I've been paying the price (a sleepless night and 2 sick kids who are clingy - I so don't have my body back). Naomi has yet another ear infection. Poor, sad kiddo. To top the lovely day off I spent 3+ hours in the emergency room with Eliot this afternoon. He had a 102.5 degree fever. Joy. Joy. Luckily his counts were high enough and they sent us home. He was perky and happy this evening.

God be praised!

That is not the point of this post though.

While we were at Naomi's clinic visit (where she was mostly inconsolably the entire time because she can't stand to be poked and prodded and I think she always thinks one of her barbaric parents are going to hold her down while she gets 4 shots in her legs) the doctor was listening to her chest.

In my lame-ass attempt to help the mood be light (not only was it horrible because she was a mess, Eliot didn't feel well and I was freaked out on superstition - the doctor was the guy who sent Eliot off to the hospital the day he was diagnosed) I asked if Naomi thought the doctor might hear a train when he listened to her chest.

Eliot got annoyed when I said that.

It's not a train! He said.

He had a grumpy, pissed off look on his face.

It's not a train!

It's God.

I'm confused.