Happy Drunk

Right. So, I can't think of a single thing that happened to me today that you would find the least bit funny. That means I have to dig oin and give you an older story, something that happened long ago. Um ... okay, how about this: I can tell you about my son having surgery.
Sound like a lot of laughs?
Really?
We'll see.
So, when Handsome was only 3 years old or so, he needed to have his adenoids out. We took him in to the hospital at the appointed time, and it was my job to keep him busy and occupied so that he wouldn't get too fidgety and hard to manage for the procedure.
Keep a 3 year old from getting fidgety. Right.
We went through all the pre-op preparations, filling out what we had to fill out, getting him into a little tiny hospital johnny, stuff like that. We had been there for a while, and he was starting to get really antsy. I was doing my best, but there was only so much I could do there in the hospital. Funny faces and "I got your nose!" will only get you so far.
Eventually, the anesthesiologist came out to talk to us. He told us that the anesthetic procedure was much the same as you would see with an adult: a mask is fitted over the mouth and nose, and the patient is gassed into submission. I asked if we could get a set-up like that for the house, since it would make bed time easier.
No dice.
He told us that children, who don't know what's going on, sometimes panic when the mask comes down. They struggle, and cry, and it makes the whole thing much worse for them. To combat this, he said, they give the kids a little drink before the procedure. It's a mild sedative, and it helps them keep calm until the gas can knock them down for the duration.
It was my job, apparently, to get Handsome to drink this little drink. Not as easy as it sounds, as Handsome is notoriously fussy about his food and drink. He's almost 9 years old now, and he still drinks nothing but milk and water. I've gotten him to try some flavored water, Propel and the like, but that was a long battle.
He does not do new things.
They brought me the little cup, and I tried to talk him into drinking it. It took a while, and I forget exactly what it was that finally did the trick, but he drank it. I think I told him it tasted like bubble gum.
It didn't.
Boy, was he mad!
He was fussing, and 'yuck'ing, and spitting, and on the verge of tears, and mad at me for tricking him, and ...
It lasted about two minutes.
All of a sudden, the tense little body that I was carrying relaxed. His red, angry face also relaxed, and then creased into a lazy smile. I had to catch his back as he kind of went boneless, and was in danger of letting himself fall straight back from me. As I pulled him a little closer to me so that I could hold him better, he threw his little arms around my neck.
"I love you, Daddy!"
I laughed. "I love you too, Handsome."
"Mommy?" He was gesturing for his mother to come closer to us. She did, and he let go of me with one arm so he could throw it around her neck. Now, with a big smile on his face, an arm around my neck and the other around hers, he pulled us both into a big, double-hug.
"I love you guys!"
Oh my God! My son was a happy drunk! He stayed that way until I took him into the procedure room, giggling, swaying, hugging us repeatedly and introducing himself to women that walked by. He was on top of the world right up until the mask came down. There was a little moment of panic then, but it was too late.
He had the procedure, and everything went just fine. I sat out in the waiting room, marveling that I knew what kind of drunk my son was, and he was only 3!
At least he wasn't belligerent.
Well ... not until he woke up after the surgery. Apparently he's not a fan of the hangover.

Talk to you later!