Barnacle Boy has a nasty sore throat, having come down with WIGA (whatever is going around). I used a flashlight to take a look at it last night, noting in passing that his tonsils looked huge. Predictably, Crash wanted to take a look, too, though the Boy was loathe to give permission. Instead, I offered them each a look in my throat. (Mother is just another word for sacrificial lamb.)
Crash is recovering from a bout with WIGA and I (so far anyway) am what the epidemiologists would call a susceptible and what I would call lucky, so we had three sets of tonsils in different states of inflammation to compare. Ever curious, the Boy still wanted to see his own throat and wondered if I would take a picture. At my hesitation, Crash leapt into the breech and suggested the Boy look in the mirror.
"Hey, they really are big!"
Crash recalled when he had strep throat which I had him self-diagnose over the phone. "Dad didn't know what it looked like, but you had me look in the mirror with the flashlight..." Dr. Mom does telemedicine.
Epilogue: The Boy does not have strep. Math Man took him to the pediatrician after he started spiking a fever (Mom was collecting a "bad mom card" by being away for a night of self-care at the Jesuit Center).