Oliver update: 14 months

At 14 months, Oliver is teetering between babyhood and toddlerhood. But calling him "Toddler Oliver" doesn't have the same ring as "Baby Oliver," so I'm going to hang on to Oliver's babyhood for a little while longer. He's still small enough to cradle in my arms, he still babbles his baby language and still looks adorable in onesies with sassy phrases printed on the front and hats with ears that make him look like a teddy bear.

Even if part of me wants Oliver to stay a baby just a little longer, another part of me recognizes when he's grown up. He knows how to use a sippy cup, so a week and a half ago I decided it was time for him to give up the bottle. I was spurred mostly by Oliver's pediatrician who said he'd like to see him off the bottle by 18 months. Because I didn't see Oliver making the switch unless he was forced to, I decided we were going to do this cold turkey. And do it now so that I'm not handing Oliver a sippy cup of milk the night before his 18-month wellness check so I can answer yes when the doctor asks me if Oliver has transitioned from the bottle.

Day 1 of no bottle had some limited success, but then Oliver vomited in the middle of the night because of what I found out later must have been the Norwalk virus. Thankfully the vomiting was a one-time occurrence, but when he continued to have diarrhea throughout the next day and seemingly refused to drink anything, dehydration became a huge concern. I never got out the bottle, but I compromised by holding the sippy cup (with warmed milk no less) for him. I felt like a cop-out to my hard-line approach, but a friend who's a doctor said that because babies suck differently on a sippy cup than they do a bottle, and this sucking motion doesn't impede dental development, making the switch to the sippy cup, even if someone is holding it for the baby, is still a very healthy step. So I stopped worrying about whether he would hold his own sippy cup of milk and considered it a success that we were even using it at all and took comfort in knowing that he was well-hydrated.

Then two or three days ago Oliver started willingly drinking from a sippy cup by himself. We place one or two sippy cups on his tray at mealtimes, (always one with milk and sometimes another filled with water) and on the first day of no bottle he wailed at even the site of his cup on his tray. But we've just left the sippy cups there and maybe he finally warmed to the hands-off, no-pressure approach. And I think when he decided to give it a try and realized he knew how to use it, he was quite proud of himself and wanted to show off. Because what baby doesn't want to show off when his mom is ridiculously cheering every self-fed sip from the other side of the table? Oliver still sometimes hands the sippy cup to me and I know he wants me to hold it for him. But I feel like we're now of "will he or won't he?" and I oblige.

But it's not just the sippy cups he hands (well, throws) to me. He's long been in the phase of handing things to people, which he often tries to take right back (and when he hands me half-chewed food, that's fine if he wants it back). I've mentioned before that throwing books to me is his new way of saying he wants me to read to him. The other day, he lifted up a bag of Goldfish grahams and held it patiently in front of me. Translation: empty out this bag for me because I'm hungry for a snack. Those imploring big brown eyes are too difficult to resist!

Oliver's cold seems like it may actually be gone, but after a second round of antibiotics didn't appear to work, I'm convinced the ear infection might stick around for awhile. The doctor had said that unless his condition worsens, (develops a fever or appears to be in pain) I don't even need to bring him back in. Oliver doesn't appear to be in pain, but it's clear there's some discomfort and I can't tell if his otherwise non-rosy disposition is a result of the lingering ear infection, or just the usual trials of toddlerhood, like teething and being told "No!" one too many times. Oh how I wish I could ask him what's wrong (Is it your gums, your ears?)!

Just in the past week we've witnessed Oliver stand up on his own without pulling himself up on anything. He's even taken a few steps, but we think the steps were really caused by momentum as he lurched himself towards our arms. But these upright moments are still few and far between so I'm not going to make any predictions that he's going to be walking any day now.

Happy Birthday Mom

Today would have been my mom's 62nd birthday. Her birthday marks what is always a difficult stretch of weeks since it's followed by the anniversary of her death, Christmas and my parent's anniversary on December 27. But while the memories remain strong, I've discovered that happy times help replace the sadness. Nevertheless, she'll always be missed.

Minnesota Children's Museum

The past couple of days has produced our first dose of arctic chill for the season. Side streets are still ice rinks after last week's ice storm and non-windchill temperatures have only reached as high as the mid-20s. The sidewalks are still passable with a stroller, but after another snowfall, they won't be. We're still going outdoors, but our walks are more condensed. No more dilly-dallying and taking in the sights and sounds. We head out on our usual loop so I can get my exercise and Oliver his fresh air, but then I call it good for the day. Despite how much I persevere with the cold weather, Oliver and I may already be suffering from cabin fever. And it's not even December...

Oliver is at the age where he needs to be on the move, but he isn't old enough to run around outside to burn off some energy, let alone be outside on a blustery day. So walks end up being his only outdoor time, and he's contained in not only his stroller, but the straight-jacket effect of his stroller bunting. Even if he likes trips to the store because there are new things to see and he can play in the seat of the cart with some of the items we're going to buy, (boxes of pastas make great impromptu rattles) there are only so many places we can go to get out of the house and where he can move around and just be a baby. The children's section of the library is one, and there are even toys there, in addition to the books, and another is the Family Center with its playroom located in the school down the street from our house. But that's about it for public places close to our home.

Chris spent this afternoon with Oliver so I could get a much-needed haircut and meet up with a friend for equally-needed time to catch up, and he was faced with the "What do I do all afternoon indoors with a baby?" question. His answer was to finally get the Minnesota Children's Museum membership we'd been talking about for months now. At $9 admission per person over the age of 1, visits quickly become pricey for our family of three. But a membership, starting at $89, was a commitment too. When Oliver was still an infant, we had debated whether to buy a membership, but then decided to wait until he was crawling and could get more out of a visit. Even when he was crawling, he could really only enjoy the room geared towards younger babies and toddlers, so we wondered if we should wait until he was old enough to enjoy more of the museum.

Now that Chris made the decision to go ahead and buy a membership, (he even sprung for the one that allows us to bring a guest for free so Oliver's grandparents or Uncle Andy can join us) I know I'm going to wonder why we ever waited. Oliver woke up at 2:30 this afternoon from his nap and Chris changed his diaper, put his clothes on and fed him a snack and still had him to the downtown St. Paul museum by 3:00 p.m. They spent all their time in the room with the water tables where Oliver got to splash his hands in faucets and fountains and race boats and ping pong balls down chutes of water - all the stuff we're never doing at home due to lack of space, equipment and my impatience for mess. After an hour and 15 minutes, he'd had his fun and they were back home in time for Chris to feed him an early 4:45 p.m. dinner.

Now that we have the membership to the Children's Museum, I'm excited to go with Oliver more often. Even if we only stay an hour, I won't feel guilty because our visit is "free." The change of scenery will be exciting for Oliver and just might save my sanity this winter too.

Thanksgiving

Today is technically Oliver's second Thanksgiving, but in some ways it feels like his first. Only two months old last year, Oliver didn't do much more than sleep and eat. As the new parent of a newborn, the round-the-clock care of a baby overshadowed some of the excitement of any of "baby's first [insert holiday]," especially when the notions of holiday and family tradition were completely lost on him. Even though planning was more complicated this year since the big meal was scheduled to start directly in the middle of what is now one nap a day for Oliver, seeing him participate in this year's Thanksgiving outweighted the preparations. Oliver ate turkey and pumpkin pie for the first time, played with his grandparents and dad's cousins, giggled at receiving kisses from the two little dogs in attendance and challenged his Great-Grandma Bea to a race: he with his cart against she with her walker. (The winner was too close to call.) Frankly, Oliver was more fun as a 14-month-old than a two-month-old.

As we start another holiday season, Thanksgiving was a reminder that with each year that passes, we'll get many more holiday "firsts." And a lot more fun that goes with it.

Boston Qualifier

I will never run a marathon, but can appreciate the dedication, will power and physical stamina required to run 26.2 miles. I was always happy running 3-4 miles. It was short enough of a workout to squeeze in before work or to endure during cold and dark Minnesota winters. Even when I didn't feel like running, which was sometimes often, I knew my favored loop - either around Lake of the Isles when I lived in Minneapolis, or by the mansions of Summit Avenue when I lived in St. Paul - would be over sooner than I thought. Yet, a couple of miles was long enough to get in a zone, but not to become bored. I still got my runner's high and those few miles kept me addicted to pounding the pavement, literally, day after day four seasons a year. All running at my embarrassingly-slow nine-minute mile (on my best days) pace.

With my humble place in the pursuit of running, I admire those who have run the crowning race in the sport. My husband, my dad, my Uncle Gary and my brother, Scott, can all call themselves marathon runners.

Three years ago, Chris and I stood on the edge of Summit Avenue at the 23-mile mark on a miserably muggy October afternoon and cheered on runners as we scanned the crowd looking for Scott, who'd end up coming along 45 minutes behind his personal record. Despite a disappointing finish in that race, Scott kept training and a few marathons later, he ran the Philadelphia Marathon, held today. With a time of 3:09:44, he qualified for Boston!

Yeah, Boston is kind of a big deal in the running world. It's the world's oldest annual marathon and you must run a qualifying time in a marathon in the previous 18 months to even be allowed to enter. For men in the 18-34 age group, that means running 3:10:59 or better, and for women, 3:40:59 or better. That means going out and running a mile in under seven minutes and 30 seconds, and then doing it again another 25 times.

Scott chased the crowd of people running with the 3:10 pacer the whole race, but as the pacers were at the front of the crowd of people making their way across the starting line, he knew that even if he was behind the official pacer, he had about a two-minute cushion between the pacer's time and his official chip time. He crossed the 25-mile mark in time to give allow him a "leisurely" last 1.2 miles. He slowed down to give his aching body a chance to catch a break, but when the finish line never appeared, he started to worry he'd allowed himself to slow down too much. He knew the story of the man from the documentary Spirit of the Marathon who missed qualifying for Boston by 11 seconds, and of a friend of mine who missed by a similar margin this fall in the Twin Cities Marathon. But he did make it, or I guess I wouldn't be writing this entry, right?

I'm incredibly proud of Scott and hope he's an inspiration for Oliver. Meanwhile, though, we're still trying to teach Oliver to walk or he's never going to learn to run.

Supporting Cognitive Development

In our early childhood education class I first learned the term "cognitive development" and how the synapses that connect neurons (core components of the nervous system, including the brain) grow at the fastest rate in a human's life from birth to about three years old. As we grow older, the synapses that have been active - the ones that have been stimulated by language, music, physical activities, food and so on - strengthen, while the unused synapses die off. So the theory goes that the more enriching an environment we raise our children in, the better their brain development and the smarter they'll be.

I was fascinated by information presented in the video our class watched, but a short ten-minute clip had also overwhelmed me. All I could think about is how Oliver is screwed because I don't sing to him enough. Some section of his brain is going to die off at age three because I can't carry a tune, can't play an instrument, can't remember the words to any songs other than The Wheels on the Bus or Take Me Out to the Ballgame and, frankly, don't even enjoy singing.

Aside from anything musical, I felt like I wasn't doing enough for Oliver period. What if I wasn't talking to him enough? Or reading to him enough? I suddenly felt guilty about the classes I thought would be both fun for me and beneficial for Oliver - baby sign language, Music Together, a bring-your-baby yoga class - but that I had opted out of mainly because of the cost (meaning not free for this frugal one). Sigh. Out of all the types of mommy guilt I could have predicted before I had kids, cognitive development wouldn't have made the list.

In our discussion afterward, the teacher assured us that we're all doing the right things just by doing what we've been doing all along with our kids throughout the course of their daily loves. We tell them we love them, we play with them, we fill their diets with healthy fats to grow their brains, we make sure they get enough sleep, we read to them, we sing to them (sigh, the guilt is still there). Eventually, out of necessity, I've had to lighten up (there's only one of me and so few waking hours in Oliver's life) but a chapter in the book American Parent: My Strange and Surprising Adventures in Babyland about research on cognitive development and our obsession as Americans to do anything possible to help our kids grow up to be geniuses, finally provided me the proof and rational I didn't know I had been seeking.

He explains, "If the synapses in the brain grow rapidly only in the first years of life, and if the synapses that aren't actively used die off, then it takes only a small leap to arrive at the idea that the more our brains are stimulated in the first years of life, the more synapses we will have, and the more powerful our brains will be." I guess that's where my logic was heading after seeing the video in class, but really, being kind of a pessimist, I was already making the leap to lack of stimulation creating a stunted brain.

The author writes about an experiment performed in the 1960s where one eye on a kitten was covered by a patch for the first three months of its life. Not only did that eye remain permanently blind, but when the researchers dissected the cat's brain, "they saw that without incoming date from the eyes, the visual cortex failed to develop properly." Even if scientists weren't trying to make a connection between "blind kittens and the intelligence of babies," that hasn't stopped parents from acting as if "children didn't receive the right stimulation in the first years of life, their brains would forever be as useless as the eyes of those blind-folded kittens."

But the author spells out what the media failed to explain in its pieces on infant development on ABC news or in articles in Newsweek or Parents magazine. "The research had found only that complete sensory deprivation could impede development. There has never been good evident that extra stimulation - beyond the sights and sounds that all babies hear in the course of daily life - enhances infant development."

Deep down I know we're doing alright. Oliver's day may not be filled with exciting activities, but I'm comforted realizing that spending two straight days in his pajamas, skipping the only playdate scheduled for the week because of a nap schedule gone array or banging away at the same set of toys while I try to do meal cleanup, general housekeeping and dinner preparation is not going to make him stupid, or worse.

And part of me is secretly placing a bet on the theory that Oliver's low-key babyhood is actually healthier. With few exceptions, his sleep and meal schedules have been directed by him, not by daycare or his parent's work schedules. We go to our early childhood education class on Thursday evenings - admittedly a taxing time of day for Oliver's early-to-bed routine - but that's the only scheduled activity we have all week. Everything else is kept simple. We have a calendar full of playdates through my moms groups we can take part in - when the timing works out. Until Oliver's nap schedule shifted, we hit up story time once a week, but even without that for the time-being, the library is only a 15-minute walk away and makes the perfect, "what do we do with our time now" kind of excursion. I keep my eye out for other activities outside the home that I think would enrich Oliver's development and be fun for him (and for me), but otherwise, I hope I'm setting the pace for a relaxed babyhood.

What Goes in the Mouth, Goes in the Brain

"What goes in the mouth, goes in the brain." That's what the facilitator of our new parent group at the hospital used to tell us about everything that babies put in their mouths, including books. With more nerve endings on their tongues than anywhere else on the body, "tasting" objects is how babies explore their world. It wasn't until very recently, though, that Oliver did more than try to eat his books.

Reading to Oliver has taken many forms. Not until I had a newborn did I realize that sitting them in your laps and reading them a book, like you would a small child, doesn't really work out that well since a newborn is a) most likely sleeping or crying to be fed b) can't hold its head up to look at a book c) can't even see more than a foot in front of its face anyway. I discovered the board books with the black and white images - the contrast of the two being what babies under three months old see the best - and as Oliver would lay on the ground, I'd hold the book in front of his face and describe the pictures. It was fun to see him connecting with the images on the page, but it wasn't very exciting describing the same wordless pages over and over again.

As soon as Oliver could hold his head up steadily and sit in my lap, I could finally read him a book in the more traditional sense, but that was short-lived, because then he started grabbing at the pages. Any books that were not board books were stored on a shelf out of his reach. He'll get those back when he can learn not to tear pages.

After months of narrating picture books, I bought Oliver new board books with an actual story line. I was so bored of trying to create a story line out of a picture of a black dog or a kite or a leaf against a white background. Well, Oliver had discovered how exciting it was to turn pages, so I either read books in fast forward as Oliver turned the pages faster than I could read them, or I just skipped whole sections of the book. Eventually he'd just want to turn the pages and lost interest when I actually tried to read the book. I'd get three pages in and he'd crawl out of my lap and move onto something else.

During the period when he had really zero interest in having a story read to him, his favorite activities involving books included either pulling them off shelves or pulling himself up on the coffee table and sliding his books one by one off the table and onto the floor.

Then a few days ago, we were having quiet playtime in Oliver's room before bed and, as usual, he pulled all his books off his shelf. But then he threw one at my feet and let out a grunt, as if to say "Read!" (He treats toys and balls indiscriminately - he likes to fling both at the floor.)

"Do you want me to read this book to you?" I asked.

He looked at me expectantly, so I read him the book and he sat and looked at the pages, and yes, wanted to turn the pages, but we read the whole book! He then threw another one at me and I read that one. And then a third time. I think he's starting to get it! He shows an interest in a book and knows that if he "asks" (we'll work on handing books instead of throwing them later) someone will read it to him.

Oliver is still into manhandling his books, and I let him interact with them in whatever way he wants. Sometimes he'll be sitting amidst a pile of books and he'll page through one of them by himself, either flipping one page back and forth, back or forth, fingering the different textures on a page, or opening and closing one of the flaps on a flip-the-flap book (his favorites right now). But if he "hands" a book to me, I always ask him if he wants to read it and then pull him into my lap so we can read together. It's exciting to see that what's gone in the mouth might finally be processing in the brain.

Ear Infection Continues

We were back to the pediatrician this morning to have Oliver's ears checked again. The dramatic (positive) change in mood that I was expecting after the first round of antibiotics had a chance to do its work had never occurred and although Oliver wasn't waking up coughing, I've seen him tug at his ears. Or in the case last night, trying to jam his fists into his ears.

My suspicions were confirmed when the doctor said the infection in his right ear is still there. It's not any worse at least, but also not better. He prescribed a different antibiotic, Cefdinir.

As I explained how baffled I was by the lack of clear symptoms indicating an ear infection, the doctor explained that ear infections "come in many flavors," with one kind being where the ear drum is enlarged, which would cause piercing pain, or in Oliver's case, where there is mild inflammation, which most likely causes a dull discomfort along with the sensation that your ear won't pop. So that would explain why Oliver wasn't showing any symptoms, at least not the type that I could differentiate from a baby dealing with a change in nap schedule, daylight savings time, a natural reduction in appetite that occurs around 12 months and a persistent cold.

I learned recently that babies and toddlers average 15-20 viruses a year, with each lasting three to seven days. Even on the low end, that's more than one virus a month! No wonder Oliver seems like he's had a cold for weeks, because he probably has. The doctor said it's not uncommon for some kids to literally have a cold all winter, yet it's par for the course and not something he'd be worried about.

That pesky cold is most likely what caused the ear infection, but that it's impossible to avoid them. Babies are such oral creatures - meaning they put EVERYTHING in their mouths. I'm a persistent hand-washer, but don't wash Oliver's hands unless he's had something sticky and/or gross in his hands. Do you know how cumbersome it is to try to hold a 20-pound baby over a sink to wash his hands for him? When I asked if now that the cold has caused a lingering ear infection if I should try harder to clean Oliver's hands, the doctor started to suggest I could try a hand sanitizer foam, but then added that really the only successful preventive measure would be to keep him in a bubble.

Let it Snow

We woke up this morning to the first snowfall of the season on Minnesota. At less than two inches, the snow is still enough to cover lawns and tree limbs and rooftops and brighten the drabness that is usually associated with November. While this snowfall won't amount to much and tomorrow's predicted high of 40 will return the sidewalks to a stroller-friendly state, at least I know I'm ready for when winter comes to stay.

Through last spring Oliver was still small enough for his infant car seat and the cover that cocooned him in warmth. I would dress him in a simple fleece outerwear suit, a hand-me-down from a cousin, put a hat on his head, socks on his hands (they work much better on babies than actual mittens!) and drape a thin blanket over his lower body. Once the cover was on, his little face was all that showed. He stayed warm and protected from the wind. We often walked when the temperature was in single digits, yet he peacefully slept in his cocoon. When Oliver was nine weeks old, we started joining a friend for a weekly Saturday morning walk around Lake Como and I only canceled once - when the wind chill dropped to the double digits. And that was because it was too cold for me. (Oliver would probably have been fine.)

Now that Oliver is sitting up in a stroller, dressing for cold weather has new challenges. I have two hearty friends, one a non-car-owner from Montreal and the other an all-season, all-weather outdoor enthusiast, and we've been sharing strategy on how to get our babies winter-ready. What gear works best with babies and most importantly, how do we protect those little faces from the harsh Minnesota winds?

The obvious preparation was to upgrade from a car seat cover to a stroller bunting, a sleeping-bag-like cover that hooks into the seat of the stroller. Oliver is small enough still that when completely zipped up, the bunting comes up to his chin. Assuming that he'll be walking at some point this winter and will presumably spend at least a bit of time running around outdoors, we bought him a proper winter jacket and snow pants and boots. But mostly, he won't need this much clothing underneath his stroller cover. Instead, it's protecting the head that will be the most difficult. I found him a fleece hat that snaps underneath the chin and wraps snugly around his head and ears. But finding any sort of neck warmer or face mask in even toddler size has been impossible. So the latest idea thrown out there was to to put a rain shield over the stroller with the thought that the flexible plastic covering would be enough to cut down on the wind. Applying Vaseline or Dermatone to the exposed skin would be added protection.

Not until the bitter cold weather sets in will we know how much we need to tweak our system for safely and comfortably enjoying fresh air with our emerging toddlers. But despite the hassle, time and strong will required to go take a walk (with or without a baby) in winter in the Upper-Midwest, I don't feel I have any other choice. Walking is my only form of exercise now and I try to stick with it for both my physical and mental health. If I don't prepare for the outdoors, I'm stuck walking indoors at places like the Mall of America. Plus I'm hoping that Oliver grows up embracing winter and believing that spending time outside and pursuing physical activity can only take place in seasons that don't require a parka.

Sleeping Soundly

I heard Oliver's wails over the sound of the TV and dashed upstairs to his rescue. I felt sorry for the poor little guy and sad not knowing how long he'd been left in his crib in distress. Since Oliver is such a good sleeper, I don't worry about watching TV at the other end of the house where it's more difficult to hear him. Besides, Chris had already gone to bed in the next room and even sound asleep, Oliver's cries through the thin, uninsulated walls should have woken Chris faster than it took me to notice in the silent lull in between commercials that Oliver was calling for us.

But when I ducked into our bedroom to grab a flashlight so I could search under Oliver's crib for his pacifier, I heard Chris snoring. How could he be still asleep with Oliver screaming in the adjacent room??? With the return of his pacifier and his giraffe and from soothing from mom, Oliver went back to sleep quickly, but was up once more before it remained silent the rest of the night. Chris slept through that distress call too.

I'm envious of how soundly Chris sleeps. So long as I'm sleeping in the same house as Oliver, I wake up when he wakes up. Even on the weekend mornings when Chris jumps out of bed and tries to pluck Oliver out of his crib before I wake up, the goodwill gesture is a lost cause. Not only do I wake up, but I can't go back to sleep. Chris, in contrast, can be up for an entire hour with Oliver, feeding him and playing with him, and when he puts him back down for a nap, can go back to sleep himself for hours. Not fair.

One of the reasons we don't own a baby monitor is that I would never be able to leave it on, as I would never sleep as I listened to every mumble, groan, sigh or crinkle of the mattress coming through the speaker of the monitor. I often wear earplugs to tune out the sounds a baby makes while settling into sleep or moving around during the night. That may sound extreme, but for someone who wakes up after having dreamed the baby was crying or took months to differentiate the cries of the baby next door from the cries of my own, earplugs are a reasonable solution.

Even when Oliver outgrows crying in the middle of the night, uninterrupted sleep still may not be completely achievable. We've also got extremely creeky floorboards. So good luck Oliver trying to sneak in past curfew. Your mom is a light sleeper.

Ear Infection

My parental gut instinct is feeling out of whack. You know, that feeling that's supposed to kick in when something is wrong, even if you don't know what or why? So I'm feeling kind of sheepish that instead of taking Oliver to the doctor's office at the first sign of a change in demeanor, I convinced myself that he was just teething, had allergies or needed more sleep. Thankfully, it was just an ear infection, but still, how long would I have let Oliver go untreated while being unaware that he was slowly worsening into a state of miserableness?

Oliver had been waking up early all week coughing and had been rather cranky, despite my attempts to be a stickler about naps. Yet I attributed any crankiness to the theories that he wasn't sleeping long enough at night and that he was still transitioning to one nap. And all the sleep books and other parents warned me that this phase will indeed make kids cranky, and their parents too in the process, so I endured. Yes, he had a runny nose, but between allergies and the fact that he probably catches who knows what by putting everything in his mouth, that's not a unique situation.

My friend's son has had two double ear infections after exhibiting nothing more than some coughing while sleeping and trying to put his finger in his ears. I thought babies with ear infections are supposed to tug on their ears and wail uncontrollably for hours on end. But then Chris swore Oliver tugged on his ear after a nap, and well, there were those minute-long coughing fits the past couple of mornings. At Chris's urging, I managed to squeak Oliver during regular office hours and avoid a visit to urgent care.

Oliver is now on a ten-day round of amoxicillin, standard anti-biotic treatment for ear infections, with a follow-up appointment needed in a few weeks to make sure the infection is gone. And just for good measure, I've been giving him regular doses of ibuprofen to ease the pain until the antibiotics clear up the inflammation. The doctor said we'd actually caught the infection early and since it was bound to get worse, possibly a lot worse, before it got better, he assured me that even if I'd be unsure of whether something was wrong at this point, I wouldn't have doubted myself a couple of days from now.