Is she active? Do fish swim?
Yesterday, Loaf had her three-year check-up. In the morning, I prepped her for the visit, explaining that the doctor would look in her eyes and ears, listen to her heart and weigh and measure her.
I also explained that she would likely get a shot and that it would be a little pinch in her arm and not to worry about it too much. She listened and seemed to take my advice. On the way into the doctor’s office, she bounded up the stairs.
“I love the doctor! It’s my favorite place!” she happily declared.
Oooooh-kay, I thought. We’ll see how you feel about the doctor in about half an hour.
After a blessedly short wait were sent into the examining room. The doctor entered soon thereafter and started her exam.
When Loaf was born, I thought she was going to be the bigger child. She was born slightly bigger than Peanut and for a short time stayed in the 75th percentile for height, but since then she’s settled in the 10th-25th percentiles for both height and weight. I shouldn’t be surprised; I’m not exactly a giant.
Then the doctor and I started talking. We chatted about Loaf’s speech, which is always a concern for me. Even though every doctor and speech therapist we’ve spoken to has essentially told us not to worry, the fact that she is behind her peers in this area does worry me. But that is another post for another day.
While we talked, Loaf:
• Climbed on and off the examining table 27 times
• Rolled from one end of the examining table to the other
• Stood on the examining table and “jogged” in place in order to hear the white sanitary paper crinkle under her feet
• Laid on the examining table and waved her arms and legs in the air like a turtle in distress
Then the doctor asked, with a completely serious tone and look on her face, “Is she active?”
Hellllooo?!? Aren’t doctor’s supposed to be a little more observant than that?
"Um, yeah," I answered, nodding my head toward Loaf, who was trying to figure out how to unroll more of the sanitary paper onto the table. "Pretty much always."
Later, Loaf got her shot, during which she did not cry but did shout out, "OUCH!," while giving the doctor a rather pissed off look like, "What the eff, dude?" When it was over, I took her around the corner and bought her a strawberry milkshake.
"Do you still like the doctor, Loaf?" I asked.
"She OK," she answered. "But this," referring to the ice cream parlor, "is my favorite place."
I also explained that she would likely get a shot and that it would be a little pinch in her arm and not to worry about it too much. She listened and seemed to take my advice. On the way into the doctor’s office, she bounded up the stairs.
“I love the doctor! It’s my favorite place!” she happily declared.
Oooooh-kay, I thought. We’ll see how you feel about the doctor in about half an hour.
After a blessedly short wait were sent into the examining room. The doctor entered soon thereafter and started her exam.
When Loaf was born, I thought she was going to be the bigger child. She was born slightly bigger than Peanut and for a short time stayed in the 75th percentile for height, but since then she’s settled in the 10th-25th percentiles for both height and weight. I shouldn’t be surprised; I’m not exactly a giant.
Then the doctor and I started talking. We chatted about Loaf’s speech, which is always a concern for me. Even though every doctor and speech therapist we’ve spoken to has essentially told us not to worry, the fact that she is behind her peers in this area does worry me. But that is another post for another day.
While we talked, Loaf:
• Climbed on and off the examining table 27 times
• Rolled from one end of the examining table to the other
• Stood on the examining table and “jogged” in place in order to hear the white sanitary paper crinkle under her feet
• Laid on the examining table and waved her arms and legs in the air like a turtle in distress
Then the doctor asked, with a completely serious tone and look on her face, “Is she active?”
Hellllooo?!? Aren’t doctor’s supposed to be a little more observant than that?
"Um, yeah," I answered, nodding my head toward Loaf, who was trying to figure out how to unroll more of the sanitary paper onto the table. "Pretty much always."
Later, Loaf got her shot, during which she did not cry but did shout out, "OUCH!," while giving the doctor a rather pissed off look like, "What the eff, dude?" When it was over, I took her around the corner and bought her a strawberry milkshake.
"Do you still like the doctor, Loaf?" I asked.
"She OK," she answered. "But this," referring to the ice cream parlor, "is my favorite place."
Labels: Adventures in Parenting
posted by Kimberly at
1:37 PM
3 Comments:
Welllll... I guess you could take comfort in the fact that the doc was focusing on her conversation with YOU instead of watching Loaf? Maybe?
Nah. Not very convincing to me either.
LOL she's much better at the doctor's office than I am!
Everyone was concerned about my nephew's speech problems too, but he completely caught up by the time he was 5. I think it's a common thing for the youngest kids.
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