Recently Sean had an appointment with the pediatrican for the umpteenth time this year to see about this chronic cough he’s had since 1983. I keep telling him that maybe he should consider cutting back on the cigarettes. Or breathing. The air in north Texas is constantly laden with pollens and allergens making breathing dangerous to your health.
Antique Daddy and I have always taken Sean to the pediatrician’s office together. I go in and sign in and Antique Daddy and Sean wait outside in the hall and watch the elevator go up and down until our name is called. And the reason we do this is because – think about it – the pediatrician’s office is full of sick kids. And all of those nose picking, germ spewing sick kids are putting their snotty, sticky, germy hands all over everything in sight. And if there is anything Sean wants to touch, it’s everything in sight. So it’s just better this way for germophobes like us.
As I sat there waiting, I looked around the waiting room and I realized that you can always tell the new parents with their first child. The new mother has her newborn all decked out in a matching shirt, bib overalls, sweater, hat, socks and shoes thinking that she will impress the pediatrician. Because he has never seen a cute baby before. At least not one as cute as hers. She also has a list. The list details the number of times little snookum’s has pooped, what color/shape/texture it was, and what time in military time the pooping event occurred.
I know this because I had that same list. And on the first visit, with Sean decked out head to toe in Osh Kosh, the doctor took the list from me and ripped it up. Right before my very eyes. And I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was my grocery list and that the poop list was in the diaper bag.
At any rate, as I watched Mrs. Newmom hold up the Baby Einstein book and say “Dog! Dog! Dog!” over and over, I became exhausted just thinking about getting that adorable bag of flour dressed and undressed. But — because of all that dressing and undressing, all the rest of the appointments behind her would be running 30 minutes behind. It’s very inconsiderate to dress your baby in cute matchy stuff with an 8:30 am appointment. Oh sure I did that too. Once. Then the rest of the first year of Sean’s life, I just put him in zip-up sleepers because I figured that a doctor who would rip up your grocery list isn’t worth the Osh Kosh effort, b’gosh.