Little Guy (LG) had has two-and-a-half year check up yesterday. A few months ago, we went to the doctor’s office for a sick visit, and that did not go well, to put it mildly. Mind you, there were no shots involved or anything painful, but the doctor had the nerve to check his ears and that warranted screams and thrashing like you wouldn’t believe. I was reminded of that Seinfeld episode where Elaine couldn’t get a doctor to check her rash because of something written on her chart. So I made a mental note of everything that set LG off and started prepping him for yesterday’s visit months ahead.
In the meantime, he got a bad cough and we had to visit the pede again two weeks ago and I was anticipating an encore performance of the above, but this time it didn’t happen. Maybe because the doctor joked around with him or LG was older or both. Who knows? So, to ensure yesterday went just as well, I got a play doctor’s kit, practiced what the doctor would be doing, reminded him about everything from the big boy scale to being measured on the table. Left out any shot info. I wasn’t going to push my luck.
Well, yesterday went beautifully! He even got two shots but the doctor managed to distract him by asking him to “help” her and when he saw blood on his finger, he thought it was paint. Success!! But in all my attempts to prep LG for the physical part of the visit (e.g. ear check, stethoscope, etc.), I didn’t think I’d also have to rehearse what to say when the doctor asks regular questions. Silly me figured my chatty kid would be just as chatty with the doctor and wow her like he wows us daily. I mean he talks in sentences, comes up with phrases that crack us up, knows his colors, shapes, and then some. I didn’t think I had to be concerned.
But, see, he has this obsession that apparently plagues boys of all ages, adult men included. My adorable toddler loves gas. No, not the gas station. Gas–the bodily function. He thinks the sound is just a riot and loves pursing his lips together to make the sound, and in any random moment, if he doesn’t feel like answering something or is being silly, the answer to a question will be “gas.” Makes a mama proud.
So, after I finished answering the Dr.’s questions about what LG knows, she turned to the man in charge himself and asked him who his friends were, the colors on his shirt, what he likes to do. And guess what my angel answered to each question? Yep. Gas. The Dr. smiled, wrote something in her chart. Probably about me being an overachiever mom or someone who exaggerates her kid’s abilities. Oh well.
LG wasn’t fazed. Was quite happy with his band-aids and sticker he received on the way out. And when we saw my mom that evening, he filled her in on his day. One gas sound after another.
4 comments for “Life’s a Gas”