Apparently we were quite the imposition on Mr. Snoodle today. As you recall, after our somewhat troubling ultrasound two weeks ago, we were (eventually) scheduled for a Level 2 Ultrasound. You can totally exhale– Snoodle is fine, and as we predicted/hoped Snoodle’s CPC’s have almost completely resolved themselves. In addition to checking out his bubble-brain, the good doctor looked around for any other signs that there might be a problem.

Heart’s still great. Palate is still intact. Kidneys appropriately kidney-esque. So far so good.

A much stronger marker for Trisomy 18 is clubbed hands, so the Doc set about investigating.

Small problem.

My son couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of his junk long enough for anyone to see his wee little fingers.

I mean, he was really…um… focused.

The doctor moved the ultrasound around, to other areas, either affording Snoodle some privacy or waiting for him to bore of it. Eventually, he removed his hands from his… er… boyhood.

But then he started playing with his hands, wringing them together and toying with his fingers like an evil crony (eeeeexcellent, Smithers.)

It took a while for us to get the high-five we were looking for, but we did eventually get it.

Right before my boy went back to grabbing his junk again.

You know… some things never change…