Little Guy’s doctor rebellion
Submitted by Debra on Monday, 25 August 2008
No Comment
For the most part, Little Guy is a fairly unflappable kid. He's so chilled, in fact, that he slept through his circumcision.
Once in a while, though, he proves he is a normal toddler with all the usual quirks and fears.
Such when he asked if he could go to the park tomorrow morning and I let it slip that he has a doctor's appointment.
""No!"" he pouted, big-lipped. ""Don't need a ketchup. I talk real good.""
When he fell asleep an hour later, he still was protesting the ketchup. At least tonight there were no cries with that.
I'm not sure where that notion originated. Maybe he's remembering Big Guy's recent checkup, which was highly conversational, between the vision and hearing tests and the pediatrician's general chit-chat. It also was heavy on tantrums -- the doctor was running late, it was nearing lunch time and everyone was tired of the tiny exam room. So the inevitable happened, and Big Guy blew.
At least Little Guy's not recalling last year's ketchup. That one was a joint session with Big Guy that ended with the nurse lining both up and torturing them with a tray of needles -- five vaccinations for Big Guy, one for Little Guy. I'm sure the unevenness was further evidence for Big Guy that Little Guy gets preferential treatment.
By the time he was 3, Big Guy clearly remembered what ""shocks"" were all about and made sure he asked before each doctor's visit if he had to have any. I responded the way any sane parent would -- ""I'm not sure, hon. We'll see what the doctor says"" -- even if I knew he was about to become a human pin cushion. Hey, I promised them I'd never lie. I didn't say anything about never avoiding the truth.
Little Guy's memory is kicking in of late. Clearly, he can recall Halloween. He still asks daily if the ""pumbkins are still green."" He has a vague notion of Christmas, and he has birthdays nailed cold. He can recall every train we've ever been on, including the one last year that freaked him out at first.
What I can't figure out is where he got the notion that ketchups are bad. He wasn't even around for Big Guy's last exam -- the one that ended tragically, with blood tests.
If he thinks talking to the doctor is bad, though, just wait until he sees what the nurse has in store for him tomorrow. Big Guy's immunization records indicate that 3-year-olds are due for ""shocks.""
The appointment's near lunch time, and the doctor no doubt will be running late. This time, Little Guy might well have ketchup and cries.
Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.
Once in a while, though, he proves he is a normal toddler with all the usual quirks and fears.
Such when he asked if he could go to the park tomorrow morning and I let it slip that he has a doctor's appointment.
""No!"" he pouted, big-lipped. ""Don't need a ketchup. I talk real good.""
When he fell asleep an hour later, he still was protesting the ketchup. At least tonight there were no cries with that.
I'm not sure where that notion originated. Maybe he's remembering Big Guy's recent checkup, which was highly conversational, between the vision and hearing tests and the pediatrician's general chit-chat. It also was heavy on tantrums -- the doctor was running late, it was nearing lunch time and everyone was tired of the tiny exam room. So the inevitable happened, and Big Guy blew.
At least Little Guy's not recalling last year's ketchup. That one was a joint session with Big Guy that ended with the nurse lining both up and torturing them with a tray of needles -- five vaccinations for Big Guy, one for Little Guy. I'm sure the unevenness was further evidence for Big Guy that Little Guy gets preferential treatment.
By the time he was 3, Big Guy clearly remembered what ""shocks"" were all about and made sure he asked before each doctor's visit if he had to have any. I responded the way any sane parent would -- ""I'm not sure, hon. We'll see what the doctor says"" -- even if I knew he was about to become a human pin cushion. Hey, I promised them I'd never lie. I didn't say anything about never avoiding the truth.
Little Guy's memory is kicking in of late. Clearly, he can recall Halloween. He still asks daily if the ""pumbkins are still green."" He has a vague notion of Christmas, and he has birthdays nailed cold. He can recall every train we've ever been on, including the one last year that freaked him out at first.
What I can't figure out is where he got the notion that ketchups are bad. He wasn't even around for Big Guy's last exam -- the one that ended tragically, with blood tests.
If he thinks talking to the doctor is bad, though, just wait until he sees what the nurse has in store for him tomorrow. Big Guy's immunization records indicate that 3-year-olds are due for ""shocks.""
The appointment's near lunch time, and the doctor no doubt will be running late. This time, Little Guy might well have ketchup and cries.
Copyright 2008 Debra Legg. All rights reserved.
“Awwwwwww. I hate shots time. My mom would always takes us to Thrifty for an ice cream after.
Once my brother locked himself in the car. Every time she unlocked it, he’d lock it again. Prob best they don’t know for certain!”
“We just got back and NO SHOCKS!!!! His tonsils, however, still are the size of the Superdome, and she wants him to see an ENT.
Even though he wasn’t tortued, we still went to Starbucks after. Any excuse will do!
Too funny about the lock. Little Guy pulled that last week. I only have one car key and, luckily, it was in my hand at time.”
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