Walked in but Limped Out!

Okay, our son will start fifth grade in August. The Genesis of this blog was when he was three and his sister was five. They were so funny. All kids are funny when they're young. I thought I'd run out of funny stories about them by now. But they still do ridiculously, funny things, that leave me feeling a little dysfunctional as a mom.

We've always had humorous stories when it comes to visits with doctors. And we still do.

Our ten-year-old went to the doctor recently after complaining about his throat and a headache. Normally when he complains and we suggest going to the doctor he has a change of heart.
"Well I think we should wait until tomorrow to see if I feel better."

When he doesn't change his mind we know we have to take him in.

So after a brief examination, the doctor tells us he needs to do a test for strep- just to rule it out. I knew what this meant: his throat would have to be swabbed.

As the doctor walked out to retrieve "supplies" the ten-year-old jumps off the table.

"Come on Daddy, let's go," he said, walking toward the door.

Daddy remains calm and in his seat. I just smiled. I've been through enough doctor visits with them both to know what's about to go down. Daddy usually underestimates the power of the (listen for the epic, powerful music in the background) TEN-YEAR-OLD! Not to take credit from Daddy because he has been there for backup when doctors, dentists and the Chick-fil-a staff (yes, he's still scared of the cow) have needed help, but I've told him he can't go all WWE on my baby- slamming him down by the throat.

"No Buddy. We gotta wait for the doctor," Daddy said nonchalantly, while looking at his phone.

He gets really close to Daddy's face and asks, "What's he gonna do?"

Still calm, he responded, "Well, he's just gonna check your throat to make sure it's not really bad."

"Naw Daddy he already did that. He don't need to do that again!"

I could tell he really meant that too. His body language changed abruptly. He stood differently.

Let the games begin!

The doctor and Daddy were involuntarily about to play TRY and Pin the boy on the table.

I sat really still and tried to be invisible. Too late...he was coming toward me for a lifeline. I did the only thing I could at the moment- I began rumbling through my purse. Don't make eye contact!

I decided to make a run for it before the doctor came back. I had to now because our oldest was beginning to smile. Not good.

Before I could make my move the doctor came in. Doc has some age on him but about six feet, so I figured between him and Daddy, they should be just fine with the little one.

"Okay Mr. Jackson, jump back up here for me," he said, patting that crinkly white paper on the table.

The ten-year-old confidently looked at Daddy.

Daddy finally put his phone down and said, "No Buddy. He's talking to YOU."

Surprisingly he sat on the table on his own.

The next few minutes were just a mess. He tried to swab his throat but the little one put up a fight. I turned my back.

I heard that white paper ripping! The doctor tried to keep his voice sweet but yelled, "No, no! No hitting!"

He finally called for backup, "Daddy. Can I get some help please?"

"Cut that out and get it over with!" Daddy yelled as he went over to help.

He put up a fight but it wasn't a fair fight. Daddy pulled out the claw, picked him up and put him down on the table in a flash. When he hit, what was left of the white paper, he protested screamed.

"Now Doc!" Daddy yelled, and the doctor was able to quickly swab his tonsils...finally.

The room was a mess! The two GROWN men were sweating, white, shredded paper was everywhere EXCEPT the table. It was muggy in the room and our daughter was bent over laughing uncontrollably.

The rest of us were silent. Daddy fixed his clothes and the doctor limped out with his sample.