"99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall"

I took Max to have an MRI on Monday. This is because he is still walking around like twinkle toes and at his age (over 3 years), it could be an indicator of some thing neural. So I agreed to the MRI as a means of ruling anything serious out.

When I got there, I was unaware that I was supposed to have "sleep deprived" him. I was also unaware that they were going to be giving him an oral syrup to drug him to sleep. Max does not do well with oral syrups. After a lot of production on the doctor and the clinic's part (they practically wanted me to wrap Max up in a straight jacket and force feed it to him, which I would absolutely never agree to), I finally asked them "couldn't I just give it to him in a Sprite?", to which they hemmed and hawed about, before finally giving me the okay. Max drank it right down.

Then they sat us in a closet sized room with a small, padded bench...in the dark...and expected Max to fall asleep whilst I held him. To make a long story shorter, as is common in the 3-5 year range, Max fought like a trooper and never fell asleep. To help facilitate things, they told me to take him for a ride in the car and see if that would do it. On the way to the car, and the reason for this post, Max was flung over the xray tech.'s shoulder, singing like a drunken sailer, his slurred version of "jingle bells." I was surpised not to hear "99 bottles of beer on the wall" come out of his mouth at this point. It would have seemed an appropriate accompaniment with all the stumbling, the head rolling and the singing. I was giggling so hard I had tears in my eyes. Max was sooooo drugged, yet he refused to give in to it.

He finally did fall asleep in the car, but by the time we got him back onto the xray table, he was waking again and we never did get that MRI. Apparently he will need to have a general anaesthesia to do that and I'm not sure that I want to proceed that route.