Thing 1 and I are here in Chicago for our quarterly visit to see the juvenile myositis doc and yesterday, for once, I'm getting my way.
Charged expenses at the American Girl Trap were relatively minimal.
We finally walked around Millennium Park instead of Navy Pier.
We saw the closing matinee of Legally Blonde: The Musical instead of yet another exhibit at the Chicago Children's Museum. (OK, partial win -- I couldn't get White Sox-Indians tickets.)
One meal was consumed in the hotel pub as opposed to the O'Hare airport Chili's.
So today, I'm aiming for the doc to finally say to Thing 1, "Every thing looks great. Your cured, puppy! Go home. You're normal again."
However, I'm pretty sure it will be, "Every thing looks good. Let's wait for the test results, though, before we start to taper off any more medications." This will be followed by the usual "do your wrist stretches more often, keeping wearing your night boots, etc."
That's OK. Not every victory has to be a perfect game.
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Since I ended on a baseball allusion, don't forget to peruse my contribution to DadCentric last week called "How You Play The Game" about my mixed feelings regarding the "everyone's a winner" theory of youth sports.
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