post-neurologist post

Went to the neurologist yesterday. Everything seems fine.
But, man, poor Coco. He steeled himself on the subway ride, in order to get through the EEG. Then, when they asked him if he wants to sit or lay down, he chose laying down and hopped on the bed and put his head on the towel.
Then, when they were starting to put the wired on his head, his eyes got red and filled with moisture and he started rubbing them and said, “The sun’s too bright.
And so we find ourselves in another parenting dilemma. On the one hand, man, what a brave little kid; he’s only four and already has quite a grip on his emotions. On the other hand, poor guy; he’s only four and already has quite a grip on his emotions.
But, like I said, the visit went fine. Nothing showed up on the EEG and he conversed with the neurologist and on his next visit he’ll just be talking with her, no EEG. Yay.
Then, and I’m not sure what got into us, we went to Chuck E. Cheese on the way home. I had never been before. The kids had been with a foolhardy babysitter who realized that the whole situation was scary and abandoned ship. Very intelligently, she took them to Target for a quick bribe and then took them back home. But, because of this babysitter, we had quite a few game tokens left over and the kids really wanted to go.
And, quite frankly, if a kid doesn’t have seizures in that place, I don’t know what will set them off. I think if you’d pump Eeyore (the lethargic donkey from Winnie the Pooh) full of valium and sent him through that climbing tube (which Coco couldn’t get enough of), even he would convulse.