A bug bite, where?

Ama and Grumpy have been visiting, and it has been a blast.  I should write about the wonderful weekend we have had, the sunset boat cruise where James was uncharacteristically relaxed; the time we went to the beach/sand bar and James just spent the whole day dropping his peach in the sand, which we then proceeded to wash in the lake and hand back to him (cue stomach bug soon); the lots of eating; the Joel Andrew playing; the fun that was had by all.

But, instead I will talk about my poor son.  It will be a post that will live in infamy.  Joel Andrew has a boo-boo of the worst kind.  Such a bad boo-boo, daycare sent him home today.  He has a bug bite, on his junk.

(editor's note: my husband has told both my children that this is what it is called, I have protested, but it doesn't matter, this is the name).

So, I am minding my own business this morning and my husband calls me into the bathroom to examine my son's privates.  I do not like to examine privates, I do not like to know they exist.  As far as I am concerned, we are all like Ken and Barbie dolls.  However, he had an issue.  It turns out that last night while driving home from Maine, Joel Andrew announced in the car ride that he needed to poop.  After a quick check-in about the status of said bowel-movement, it was determined that the need was immediate.  So, Joel Husband pulled over and stripped him down (on the side of 95) and he pooped.  But, during this time, a bug had made his attack.

This morning he woke up a little swollen.  Joel Husband relayed the terms to me, at which point my maturity just made me want to stick fingers in my ears and ignore it.  What am I supposed to do about this?  I passed my son into the loving care of my parents, at which point I explained to my father: "Joel Andrew has a bug bite, tell daycare it is nothing to worry about" assuming he would fully understand and relay the message.  I do not think I have ever uttered the P-word in front of my father before.

This sort of assumption, did not work.  Joel Andrew went to school and approximately 10 minutes after drop off by Ama and Grumpy, I got a call at my desk.  I told them I knew, he was all set.  Everything was ok, it was just a bug bite.  Until 11:30, when it was not.  Things had gotten significantly worse, swollen.  Poor guy.  I sat helpless at my desk while trying to schedule daycare, a Dr, husband and parents.  All worked out, and my parents picked him up and brought him to the Dr.

My parents got to experience a pediatrician's office for the first time in many years, which I am sure they loved. The poor guy is hanging in.  How bad is that?  I swear, my kids win the award for strangest occurrences.  Some benedryl (which I am told by my parents makes Joel Andrew a little chill) is all he needed to feel a bit better.  He will be back to new in no time.