In Minnesota we have itty-bitty medical clinics located inside some Target and CVS locations. They are staffed (I assume; I just checked and the websites do not specify) by nurse practioners or physicians' assistants and they advertise themselves as a drop-in alternative for low-intervention troubles (strep throat, splinter removal, pink eye.) I don't know exactly how long they have been open - not long - but every time I have walked by one I have thought, "Oooooh! Ear infections!"

I have a complicated relationship with infected ears. As a child I was a martyr to them - I got a ton of them and they were agonizing. I have a clear memory of crying while my mom rocked me with a warm washcloth pressed against my head. Sometimes I can still taste the odd pink-flavored tang of chilled penicillin. When I was little my grandmother used to tell me many great stories about her life but my favorite was always about how she also got terrible childhood ear aches and her step-mother would put her to bed with an oven-heated sock filled with rice. The message for me was that ear infections are so awful that you never, ever forget them. Sufferers unite.

So the first time baby Patrick got a cold and touched his ear I screamed "Aiiiieeee!" and raced him for an ear check. And the second. And the fifth. And the twentieth. Yet only once did the doctor say, "Um, yeah, maybe this ear is a little wonky." Every other time they would look at the pink healthy nautilus spiraling in Patrick's head and pronounce it to be the least infected ear they had ever seen in seventy-hundred years of practicing medicine. And I would feel stupid for having brought him in... again. They probably called me The Ear Lady or Old Crazy Ears or something. So from personal familiarity I am hyper-alert when it comes to ears but my parental experience has made me a little otoscope-shy. Not only would Patrick never have an ear infection when I took him in, he would inevitably pick up a completely new virus during the visit. Isn't that annoying, by the way? You bring your kid into the pediatrician or urgent care and they take a look and say, "What? This? Noooooo, I don't think it's leprosy... more like a dried corn flake." And they flick it off with a fingernail and you feel completely ridiculous for having overreacted. Meanwhile you look over and discover the child rummaging around in a bin labeled "Typhoid: Do Not Touch".

This brings me to Caroline and Edward and their week-long cold which is finally, mercifully dripping its way to an end. However, I noticed on Sunday that Edward has developed a habit of turning his head to the side while eating; a few times going as far as to rest his left ear against his shoulder or the highchair. The old me would have raced him off to urgent care but I hesitated. He didn't seem like he was in tremendous pain. He didn't smack at me when I tenatively gave the ear a gentle tug. In general he was eating better and sleeping better so I was torn as to what to do.

"Ah-ha!" I thought. "The perfect opportunity to try out the mini-clinic. Quick, convenient, anonymous, less germy... if they think he does have an infection I can always bring him in to the pediatrician for a follow-up."

I lugged him in his car seat over to CVS (I hate using the double stroller when I have just one baby with me; it makes me feel like I forgot something very important) only to discover the clinic had closed ten minutes before we got there.

Curses. I bought a bag of peanut M&Ms and yet another tube of drugstore mascara (one of my weaknesses: this week's pick LashBlast Hydrofuge by CoverGirl - i like it although the applicator wand is as thick as my pinkie and unwieldy) and lugged him home again.

Yesterday he seemed fine fine fine until dinner when he started the head on the tray thing again. I called my mother who told me to just take him in for a look. So back we went to CVS, this time checking first to make sure they would still be open. I made it half-way through the sign in process before I was asked to check a box confirming that the patient was over 18 months old. Double curses and shame on me for researching these places without ever once picking up on that critical detail. I contemplated driving him over to the urgent care but he smiled at me and I thought, "Nah."

So it is now Tuesday morning and I still haven't taken Edward to get his ears checked and I am still undecided as to whether I am going to call the pediatrician for an appointment or not. At this rate it will become a moot point, I suppose. I keep thinking about the very ancient pediatrician we saw when Patrick was very little. He said that ear infections develop when secretions pool in the ear canal so the best way to avoid them is by blasting the child with decongestant for the first several days of a cold. He recommended healthy doses of Dimetapp around the clock. This made sense to me. However, last year manufacturers of infant cold medicines voluntarily withdrew these products from the shelves when the American Academy of Pediatrics started pushing for it. And this year they are asking the FDA to ban cold medicine for all children under 12. The AAP asserts that: 1) cold medicines were never tested for children; 2) they are seeing too many kids accidentally overdosed by parents administering more than one multi-symptom medicine containing identical ingredients; and 3) cold medicines do not work.

I don't know about the rest of you but that last point really irks me. If by "work" they mean "cure" then no, cold medicines do not cure the common cold. If "work" means that a decongestant helps clear a baby long enough for them to eat and sleep then in my experience they absolutely do. And as a person who has just tended two babies armed with nothing but mentholated rub, humidifiers, those stupid nose bulbs (THANK YOU for the two alternative recommendations on the last post) and copious amounts of infant Tylenol I resent being told otherwise. Conduct new studies. Clarify labels. Reduce products to single ingredients. But don't just blithely say "Oh these don't work!" and take away decongestants and cough medicines.

What do you think? In your anecdotal experience do cold medicines work for kids? And would you take Edward in to get his ears checked when his only remaining symptoms are a runny nose and a propensity for laying his head to the side? My past is clouding my judgement, I fear.

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