On Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Minor developed a fever and started pulling on his ear, so we decided to commence our Grand Tour of Urgent Care Centers of the Middle West.

It was a pretty good experience. No, really! We don’t have urgent care in our corner of Massachusetts, forcing me to utilize the emergency room for after-hours visits, so I didn’t know what to expect. Tulsa has a center that specializes in pediatrics at Saint Francis Hospital. They checked us in with a minimum of fuss, although I’d never been there before, and they charged me a bargain-basement $25 for the service.

The pediatrician was very nice. He took one look in Minor’s ear and wrote me a script for an antibiotic, warning me that it sometimes caused loose and colorful stools.

“I was in the Peace Corps, doctor,” I told him. “I’ve seen stools of every hue and consistency, so don’t try to cheer me up with promises of bright-red poop.”

His hand hovered over his prescription pad as he mused, “Do you want me to write you a script for Tylenol with codeine?”

I perked right up. “Boy, howdy, do I!”

Then I figured out that he meant for the baby.