Primarily Speaking...

I've started this post six times already, and I've erased them all.  I think my brain is fried.

So I will just say that we spent the day up at Primary Children's Hospital, having Gee's routine yearly bladder check.  It was about as fun as you might expect, and I am emotionally drained.  Some of the results weren't as great as we could like, and it is possible an MRI is in his near future.  Yay.

(But not to worry:  None of the results are very very scary, just potentially point to surgery in the next couple of months.)

But I have to tell you--in the waiting room before his CMG, there was a cute little two or three year old boy with adorable brown curls.  He was bouncing around, playing with the toys, and every so often his mother would gently correct or redirect him.  "Master, let the other little boys play with that," or "Master, don't tap on the fish tank."  

"That can't be his name," I thought to myself.  "I must be hearing it wrong.  Perhaps it is Mateo or Matthew or Aston or something."

Something you should know:  At Primary, when your child is going to have surgery, you wear a name tag with your child's first and last name written on it, so the nurses and assistants and everyone know who they need to talk to.

So I ever so casually turned around to check out the mother's name tag.  And what was written on the tag?

"Master Bang"

I...I don't even know what to do with that name.  Who DOES that?