Had to stay at home to care for Nicolas, who suffered agonizing pain from severe constipation, poor thing. V thought it phychological obstacles at first, “I can see he’s holding it in”, but it proved not so, and we made for the doctor at first notice, and got him a proper laxative that allowed it out in a matter of a few – painful – minutes. Beyond which his mood improved dramatically for the better. Was so happy to see his spirits rise, for a minute I was extremely nervous that I’d somehow displaced his intestines on account of our trampoline endeavors together. Has been a long time since I was this worried, as a parent worries about his kids well-being, and now I hope it’ll be a long time until next! It’s so hard, having to watch your child writher in pain. I wanted to scream at V, at the notion that he was somehow doing it mentally to himself, she was so sure of it and it took the doc to convince her of the use of Microlax, the proper way to dissolve the cork in his bottom, so to speak; because she projected her own previous use of it, a painful affair, onto him, and couldn’t think straight. But who is to say another time she wouldn’t be in the right, and I’d look like a fool. Everyone is happy now, so why am I still angry with her? Is it because she’s always to stubborn and I hardly get a say in when she’s in a rage, so that when I’m right I want her to admit it, god dammit, and make her think second thoughts next time? Now who’s projecting. Or is it because I was scared and felt helpless and it’s a real sucky feeling, one that really diminishes a man, and I want someone to blame because it makes it easier? “If only she had x, then I wouldn’t have had to y…” Of the two, now that it’s over I’d better admit to the second one as being the better answer. I’m so glad he’s better. First time in ages I went and took a care-for-your-sick-kid-day – hope the next one will be far, far away.