Let them eat cake (not my son's scalp)

Here's proof, dear readers! We really did go for a hike after my last post. And we ate cake! And I wrote more of my novel that night. By no means am I meeting the recommended goal of 1660 words per day, but I have 890 and I'm happy.

Here's the kicker...my son got a tick on our hike! Here I am trying to do a good thing, taking advantage of one of the last warm days of fall. We all had long pants and socks and shoes. No sandals. No flip flops. Our feet were so covered, we left sweat trails in the pine needles. Our long sleeves were trailing behind us like fleecy snakes, we were so decked out in safe hike clothing. But our heads. Ah. Our heads. And the trail. Ah. The trail. Stay on the trail, son. Stay on the trail. Don't roll around in the leaves, son. Stay on the trail. And so, my son came to me with a head ache. Not a headache as in get some aspirin, but a head ache as in, "Mommy, my head hurts. It feels like I have a cut."

Does anyone know about ticks and kids? Or tick precautions (post biting) in general? Our pediatrician said no worries. It wasn't engorged (from the way I described it), so they said, "No. We don't need to see your son or the tick. Watch for a rash. Watch for signs of the flu. It's a slim chance it was infected." Is this correct? Seems kind of laid back to me. No rash, so far, though. Whew!

My novel...I'm having trouble getting to the action. I love description. Love thoughts, images, metaphors. I'm a poet, after all. But I feel like I just can't get the action started. Maybe I'm just not far enough into it. Ugly critic, is that you in my head?