The Doctor
It's been a long, long time since I've had an excursion with the littles like I had at the doctor earlier this week. Since the PCP went off to Kindergarten and I generally run about with just the baby in tow, I am quite obviously out of practice. Alas, I suppose I was due. I'm going to dub this picture "terrorists in disguise."
Here's how our 3- and 6-year check-ups went down...
After the nurse asked the requisite questions and made the obligatory measurements, she sent us back to our little pen to dress down to the undies. And as I stand there urging them to sit and undress in my nicest possible mean voice (just in case those rooms are bugged or videoed to monitor parenting skills) they are making an obstacle course out of the room. Jump on the bench, climb on the table, leap off, run around the stool, repeat. And repeat. And repeat again. By the time I catch them and start undressing them myself, the doctor is coming in the room and John yells out the two words that instantly trigger madness and mayhem in my littles... "UNDIE MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Please take a moment to picture my two littles, clad in nothing but their undies, making all sorts of super hero moves, poses and leaps, yelling "UNDIE MAN" at the top of their lungs while the doctor stares on. oy.
By the grace of God, they calm down and the doctor starts "interviewing" John. Let's just say things went much better when Mommy got to answer the questions.
Doctor: John, do you play outside?
John: Not really. (HUH???????? Have you seen the gazillion pictures of my littles playing outside in sun, rain, sleet and snow?? They play out side e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y. If for nothing else but to keep ME sane.)
Doctor: Oh. I see. Do you like to watch tv?
John: Yes. I love it. It's my favorite thing. (Really? I'll give you that the baby adores the tele, but John does not and never has. I'm not even sure that he's seen a full episode of a single cartoon. Ever.)
Doctor: Well, we're going to have to limit your screen time to one hour a day. (As he gives me the evil, you're a bad mommy accusatory glance.)
John: *whining* Ohhhhhhhhhh noooooooooo. Not fair. This is so unfair. One hour? Please, please don't do it. Pllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssseeeeeeeeeee.
While I'm frantically trying to think of a way to change the subject (and the doctor is ignoring my protests that he DOES play outside), the baby steps in. He bends over right in front of the doctor and pulls down his undies in the back. And like fifteen toys fall out. Really. I could NOT make this stuff up. Three pirate eye patches, three mini swords, a pirate flag, his Disney World Key to the World card, the medal off of a soccer award, two K'nex connectors, a pirate coin and a short piece of Thomas the Train track. The worst part of all? Definitely the mini sword that I had to manually extract from between his cheeks with the doctor looking on. If things hadn't been so chaotic I surely would have noticed this extra load and have been able to discretely deal with the issue. Needless to say, the littles find this completely HYSTERICAL. John is bellowing about how Cookie pooped out pirate swords and Cookie is trying to shove it all back in his undies and I am trying to wrestle it away from Cookie to put in my purse while urging John to stop saying "poop." I must've been as red as a beet at this point because I can certainly say that I was completely mortified. Being so mortified, I was NOT about to take out my phone and immortalize the incident on film. Instead, I snapped this one of the "undie loot" once we arrived back home and I emptied out my purse.
That episode behind us, it's time for the baby's interview. It went something like this...
Doctor: What's your name?
Whit: Whit.
(Me: whew! This is going to go well. Things are definitely looking up.)
Doctor: How old are you?
Whit: Twenty.
(Me: Scratch that.)
Doctor: Twenty?? Really, how old are you?
Whit: Twenty.
Doctor: You just had a birthday. How old did you turn?
Whit. I. TWENTY.
(Doctor frantically types away in his little laptop thingy.)
Doctor: You're three, Whit. Now, are you a boy or a girl?
Whit: I adult.
Doctor: If you're an adult, what am I?
Whit. A doctor.
Oh, and the whole time he's hopping around on one foot because the doctor had asked John to demonstrate this ability and Cookie evidently found it quite attractive.
We wrapped up shortly after that exchange. The doctor proclaimed the boys "completely normal and healthy" as he whisked out of the room. (If THAT was "normal and healthy", I shudder to think at what "wild and bad" must look like.) Really, I shouldn't have been surprised at any of this. It's like something about me is exuding the immense desire to show off my perfectly groomed (we put on all clean clothes, brushed teeth, made appropriate bribes for good behavior, etc.) well mannered children at the doctor. And my littles pick up on this signal and decide to thwart my plans if it's the last thing they do. Isn't that like the law of mommy-hood or something?
Oh, and I'd love a little peek into our permanent record. I can only imagine the things it must say.
xoxo
After the nurse asked the requisite questions and made the obligatory measurements, she sent us back to our little pen to dress down to the undies. And as I stand there urging them to sit and undress in my nicest possible mean voice (just in case those rooms are bugged or videoed to monitor parenting skills) they are making an obstacle course out of the room. Jump on the bench, climb on the table, leap off, run around the stool, repeat. And repeat. And repeat again. By the time I catch them and start undressing them myself, the doctor is coming in the room and John yells out the two words that instantly trigger madness and mayhem in my littles... "UNDIE MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Please take a moment to picture my two littles, clad in nothing but their undies, making all sorts of super hero moves, poses and leaps, yelling "UNDIE MAN" at the top of their lungs while the doctor stares on. oy.
By the grace of God, they calm down and the doctor starts "interviewing" John. Let's just say things went much better when Mommy got to answer the questions.
Doctor: John, do you play outside?
John: Not really. (HUH???????? Have you seen the gazillion pictures of my littles playing outside in sun, rain, sleet and snow?? They play out side e.v.e.r.y.d.a.y. If for nothing else but to keep ME sane.)
Doctor: Oh. I see. Do you like to watch tv?
John: Yes. I love it. It's my favorite thing. (Really? I'll give you that the baby adores the tele, but John does not and never has. I'm not even sure that he's seen a full episode of a single cartoon. Ever.)
Doctor: Well, we're going to have to limit your screen time to one hour a day. (As he gives me the evil, you're a bad mommy accusatory glance.)
John: *whining* Ohhhhhhhhhh noooooooooo. Not fair. This is so unfair. One hour? Please, please don't do it. Pllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaassssssssssseeeeeeeeeee.
While I'm frantically trying to think of a way to change the subject (and the doctor is ignoring my protests that he DOES play outside), the baby steps in. He bends over right in front of the doctor and pulls down his undies in the back. And like fifteen toys fall out. Really. I could NOT make this stuff up. Three pirate eye patches, three mini swords, a pirate flag, his Disney World Key to the World card, the medal off of a soccer award, two K'nex connectors, a pirate coin and a short piece of Thomas the Train track. The worst part of all? Definitely the mini sword that I had to manually extract from between his cheeks with the doctor looking on. If things hadn't been so chaotic I surely would have noticed this extra load and have been able to discretely deal with the issue. Needless to say, the littles find this completely HYSTERICAL. John is bellowing about how Cookie pooped out pirate swords and Cookie is trying to shove it all back in his undies and I am trying to wrestle it away from Cookie to put in my purse while urging John to stop saying "poop." I must've been as red as a beet at this point because I can certainly say that I was completely mortified. Being so mortified, I was NOT about to take out my phone and immortalize the incident on film. Instead, I snapped this one of the "undie loot" once we arrived back home and I emptied out my purse.
Doctor: What's your name?
Whit: Whit.
(Me: whew! This is going to go well. Things are definitely looking up.)
Doctor: How old are you?
Whit: Twenty.
(Me: Scratch that.)
Doctor: Twenty?? Really, how old are you?
Whit: Twenty.
Doctor: You just had a birthday. How old did you turn?
Whit. I. TWENTY.
(Doctor frantically types away in his little laptop thingy.)
Doctor: You're three, Whit. Now, are you a boy or a girl?
Whit: I adult.
Doctor: If you're an adult, what am I?
Whit. A doctor.
Oh, and the whole time he's hopping around on one foot because the doctor had asked John to demonstrate this ability and Cookie evidently found it quite attractive.
We wrapped up shortly after that exchange. The doctor proclaimed the boys "completely normal and healthy" as he whisked out of the room. (If THAT was "normal and healthy", I shudder to think at what "wild and bad" must look like.) Really, I shouldn't have been surprised at any of this. It's like something about me is exuding the immense desire to show off my perfectly groomed (we put on all clean clothes, brushed teeth, made appropriate bribes for good behavior, etc.) well mannered children at the doctor. And my littles pick up on this signal and decide to thwart my plans if it's the last thing they do. Isn't that like the law of mommy-hood or something?
Oh, and I'd love a little peek into our permanent record. I can only imagine the things it must say.
xoxo
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