why I need to buy a couple of sets of scrubs

There's this kid. He isn't up on his hands and knees, but he does the combat crawl faster than you can sprint across the room and close the door somebody left open. He grabs hold of the plastic playpen-panel partition that's meant to keep the crawling and stumbling babies from stepping on the younger ones who just lie around a lot -- or kissing them and tasting them, as this baby did the other day, or taking hair samples for oral analysis -- he grabs hold and he stands there, grinning and giggling for a moment because he got upright on his own, and then grunting in a rapid crescendo as he gets more and more frustrated because he can't figure out how to move his feet.


The kid is charming, knows how to flirt, has the light of active intelligence in his eye, and loves being talked and sung to (singing to the children is my first line of defense. I hope I don't do it so much that it bothers my cow orkers). So everybody likes him. Today, however -- some minor discomfort for him proved to be a wild ride for use. ( Really, don't read this if you're squeamish about bodily fluids and worse. No injuries, though )