She's a Keeper

Since Charley just turned three, it was time to take her in for a general check-up with a doctor, so several weeks ago I made an appointment for December 28th and started prepping Charley a couple days in advance. I simply explained to her that she was going to visit a really nice doctor who was going to talk to her, look in her ears and mouth, and make sure that she was healthy. At first she didn't want to go because she didn't want the doctor to give her a "shock" (i.e. a shot), but I promised her that she wouldn't be getting any shocks and that nothing would hurt. We had the same conversation several times (reassurance by repetition) regarding this visit, so by appointment time, Charley seemed pretty comfortable with the entire event.

In the past we've always just checked in for our appointment, and after being weighed and measured, she would see a pediatrician that would ask us a lot of questions about her development and would give her a physical exam. But right off the bat I knew things would be different here when the receptionist handed me a mountain of paperwork to fill out while we were waiting. Most of it was just routine stuff, but I was particularly fascinated with this form that I could immediately tell was some sort of pediatric development assessment. It was bright and eye-catching, with different shapes, colors, and pictures splashed all over it. It was a series of questions about Charley's development, like whether she knew the difference between a boy and a girl, whether she could dress herself, whether she could speak by grouping three or more words together, etc. The most interesting questions were those that required me to "test" Charley right in the waiting room, like seeing of she could identify colors, animals, emotions, draw a straight line, and whether she could jump over the question form on the floor without touching it with her feet (which turned out to be very entertaining for the other waiting patients). Charley just thought it was all fun and games, while I thought it was fascinating. The questionnaire actually stated very boldly at the top, "If you respond to any three of these questions with the answer "no" immediately stop filling out the form." I thought to myself, wow, what an AWESOME way to assess the development of a three year old! Are you sensing my sarcasm? I mean, I know I'm no doctor, but really, if my three year old happened to not be able to identify all the colors perfectly, or count out four pennies, or draw a straight line, is it really fair to tell me to give up and just quit filling out the form because OBVIOUSLY she's not where she should be? Boy, lucky for me, the only question I had to answer "no" to was the one that asked if Charley could stand on one foot without holding on to anything for at least three seconds, because to my dismay, she could only do it for TWO seconds. Oh Lord, there must be something wrong! Ha ha.

So, after filling out the mountain of forms and turning them in, I quickly realized that things were not going quite as smoothly as planned because Charley had an ever-so-slight accident in her underpants, so I had to sneak her off to the bathroom in between getting weighed and examined so that we didn't have to be embarrassed when the doctor came in. After getting cleaned up, we returned to the exam room and met the doctor, who turned out to be very nice but also very text book. You know the kind I'm talking about? Those doctors that are obviously very intelligent and can convey to you exactly what they've been taught along the way, but demonstrate no sort of common sense flexibility or intuition? It started with her very strong opinion on what type of milk Charley should be drinking. She sternly asked me, "Now you ARE giving her 2% milk, right?" I told her no, actually I was giving both Charley and my sixteen month-old son whole milk because that is what I was previously told to give them. She acted a little annoyed and said, "Oh no, you need to switch her to 2% because she does NOT need all that extra FAT." Oh please. Are you kidding me? I felt like saying, have you looked at my daughter lady? She eats like a horse but is skinny as a rail. At this point in her three year old life, I'm not too concerned about that extra four grams of fat per cup in her milk because she clearly isn't suffering because of it. Seriously, I just wanted to laugh. She continued to tell me that Zander CERTAINLY needs the whole milk, but Charley MUST drink 2%. Somebody please tell me, what happened fifty years ago when there was no such thing as all these different types of milk? Just to make sure I wasn't a complete moron, I asked my medical consultant (my friend Heather who is a Nurse Practitioner) about the milk thing, and she just laughed and said that she gives her boys who are two and four whole milk, which is perfectly fine. Yeah, that's what I thought.

After the whole milk debacle, the doctor continued to ask me some questions while inputting the information into the computer. During one of the doctor's long pauses, Charley and I had the following conversation (word for word), while Charley was looking out the window:

Charley: Mom, I see lot of cars out in the parking lot.
Danielle: Oh yeah, what color cars do you see?
Charley: I see a red one, a blue one . . .
Danielle: Do you see our car out there anywhere?
Charley: No, I don't think so.
Danielle: Can you think of what color our car is?
Charley: No, I can't remember what color our car is. Can you tell me?
Danielle: Remember it's sort of a gray color, and it's a van?
Charley: Oh yeah, a gray van. No, I don't see it out there.

Then the doctor interjects at this point to ask, "So, can Charley identify items, like point at the oven and identify it as an "oven," and point to the refrigerator and identify it as a "refrigerator?" Um, hello lady, did you not JUST witness the conversation with my daughter about identifying cars in the parking lot, where she talked about cars and colors and actually used the word "remember?" A few minutes later she turns to Charley and says, "So Charley, are you a little boy or little girl?" Charley tells her that she is a little girl. Then the doctor asks her if Zander is a little girl too, and Charley looks at her like she is a complete idiot (like only Charley can do) and says, "Uh, no, he's a little boy." I know the doctor was just testing Charley, but I think Charley and I were on the same wave length with these silly questions. :)

Okay, so I'm not REALLY complaining because despite these text books questions and responses, the doctor was extremely kind and gentle and made Charley feel very comfortable, particularly during the physical exam, which I know can be pretty scary for a kid. Charley just sort of stared at me with a nervous smile the whole time, but she behaved very well, and much of that can be attributed to the doctor's demeanor. She said that Charley is very healthy, doing very well, and bring her back in a year. Don't tell her, but I think we are going to stick with the whole milk for awhile.