I always feel a bit anxious before taking my kids to the doctors, even if it is just for a well check up. Maybe it’s knowing they’ll be crying as soon as we get in the exam room, maybe it’s because of the shots they’ll have to have, or maybe it’s my germaphobia and it’s like attending “exposure therapy” every time I head into known bacteria cafeterias.
Once parked, I went around to get the stroller and nearly stepped into what was once gold fish (I think) in a pile of kiddie puke. I then climbed back in the car and went to the opposite side of the lot and tried again. I cringed a bit as I reached the door and we walked inside.
We’re now nearing two months since kids went back to school and I held my breath and flinched a little as we walked past the now full sick side with a symphony of hacking coughs. As we signed in, Cecilia still didn’t know where we were, so she happily smiled at the other kids in the waiting room who waved and smiled back at her. I filled out her papers and I paid in advance (since there’s usually a sense of urgency to leave once we’re done). As we waited, I read Cecilia a book but we were suddenly interrupted by the waiting room door to the back of the office swinging wildly open. “Wait, Michael!” a woman shouted after a snotty blond boy who torn into the well waiting room. The woman soon emerged along with her husband and she began what would be a ridiculously long check out. First she chattered about the weather and her plans for the weekend, and as the receptionist tried to guide her to the task at hand (scheduling another appointment),and then she began to talk about Halloween. At least she had her husband to watch their son…and watch their son he did. He watched him climb over chairs. He watched him tip the little kids table over. Then he watched him run right over to Cecilia and without stopping, leap into her umbrella stroller, stuffed nose running, mouth open with tongue out, and lick her arm like some kind of a freaking retriever.
Call it divine intervention, but I managed to not tackle this small boy and throat punch his father…I did, however yell out, “Noooooo, noooo little guy! She’s got a bad cold, no touch!” His father said, “Oh that’s okay, so does he!” Really? The booger trail on my daughter’s arm wasn’t a big enough clue. For anyone as dense as Booger’s Dad, I’ll just tell you that was my “nice” way of telling a child that you shouldn’t climb and jump on strangers. The mother at this point, still had not turned around and I proceeded to use antibacterial wipes from my bag to clean my daughter’s arm and stroller. The father stared at me, and I gave him a look that told him not to go there, and we held each others glance until his son smacked his forehead off the windowsill he was attempting to climb while virtually unattended.
The rest of the visit was pretty routine, and thankfully Cecilia is growing well and didn’t cry for 90% of her exam. She likes the doctor who lets the kids play with the medical tools before he uses them. He let her continue to hold the reflex hammer after checking her and as he listened to her heart and other parts of the exam. I could only watch as she swung the hammer wildly, but somehow managed to miss the doctor with each swing. She even showed off a bit and chattered away, stringing some words together in small sentences. What can I say, she’s advanced? Of course, if it’s one thing we know how to do in this house it’s talk.
So after a nice bath and clean clothes when she got home, we sat down and enjoyed a sliced orange for some extra vitamin C.
Can you relate? I’d love to hear from you too…leave me a comment!