Our little one has the sniffles. She's a bit pitiful with all of the stuffiness and coughing. "Nothse," she says when her little button nose needs attention. She's enjoying all of the attention for after requesting attention for her nose, she says, "Bed" and motions toward MY bed. "Piyyows," is the next command which queues us to begin the propping. "Gink!" is usually the next directive that causes a runner to deliver a sippy cup. A seasoned runner also knows that "PASSY" will be the next request and grabs it on the way. Finally, with finger pointed TV-ward she says, "MOUSE." As in Mickey Mouse. Now...all is right in her little stuffed up world.
Kate and I took her to a doctor a few days ago. Our family doctor was away, so we had to see a "back up" doctor. I never like this. Our doctor is used to us, and we haven't been able to make him nervous for some years now. New doctors don't seem to know what to do with our craziness. Usually all "non-patients" have joined the "patient" on the table and all of us are coloring with crayons on the white paper that covers the table by the time our doctor enters the room.
The last time we visited our doctor there were four patients--two children and two adults! Molly and Kate were kept busy by the kind receptionist while the nurse moved the rest of us on and off of the scales, took our temperatures, and ushered us into the exam room much like cattle being led into their chutes! I hope never to have to do that to all those kind souls ever again!
For Molly's most current visit to the substitute doctor, I need not have fretted. Kate had it all under control. "Mom, do you want the diaper bag?" she asked as we were climbing from the van.
"No. Just give me a diaper, we'll not be in there long."
"Mom," she said, handing over the diaper, "we'd better take some wipes in too."
"Nah, just come on, we'll be fine."
"Mom," I heard again once we had negotiated the elevator and had located the correct office. I was in the middle of signing papers as she continued, "Look at Molly. She's bent over and her face is all red." Her grin said, I told you to bring the wipes.
After Kate had introduced us to a lady in the waiting room, we were summoned by a nurse. As is the case with all pediatrician visits, this nurse had some questions. When asked what her name was, she responded with her given name, her nickname, and the name she wished she had been given. When I was asked Molly's name, Kate answered for me. "How old is she?" asked the nurse.
"I'm going to be five very soon," said Kate, handing me some tissues out of her sequined purse as I changed Molly's diaper.
"And the baby?" asked the nurse, looking my direction.
"She's ooonnnneeeee," answered the soon to be five year old with a bit of huff. She must have thought that the nurse should be able to recognize a one-year-old on spec.
When asked the reason for our visit, I opened my mouth to describe the symptoms. I need not have bothered. "She's got this awful green stuff running down her face, she's not sleeping well and she's very grouchy." All that was left for me to do was nod and write the check.
Honestly, I didn't know Kate had it in her. Maybe it was all her years as a patient that were doing the talking?