Rose-colored eyeballs

Jensen has pink eye. Which is actually a misnomer, because his eyes are apparently more of a fire-engine red hue.

He's miserable.

And he's still at my mom and dad's house.

Mom called last night. Jensen was sobbing inconsolably. She was desperate for something (anything!) that would help him feel better. And she was worried about his eyes, which look kind of scary. The problem is, it's a viral infection, so antibiotics won't help. He's already been to the doctor twice. There's really not a lot to be done.

But man, was he unhappy. Jeff and I talked to him, and he broke our hearts. So when he said he wanted to come home, we decided it was probably for the best, even though that was going to require major schedule adjustments. (Rule #1 of parenting: be flexible.)

Mom and Dad were ready to ship him home, too. Let's face it: they're taking care of their grandson who has some hideous, painful eye infection. What if it's not pink eye? What if it's something much worse?! They hardly want to be responsible for him losing his vision. Not in their job description.

Then this morning, I talked to young Jensen again. No way did he want to come home today. Nuh-unh. (Rule #2 of parenting: be flexible again.) As I talked to him, I think I figured out what was going on.

He got in trouble at Grandma and Grandpa's house.

I got in trouble from my Grandma K exactly once when I was a kid. And I was devastated. Crushed. Betrayed. Ashamed. I cried as if someone had died.

So when Jensen 'fessed up this morning, it all came clear to me.

Yep, he has pink eye. It hurts. He doesn't feel good. And he got in trouble. I'd probably want to come home too. At least for an hour or two.