I had to take Jack to the doctor on Wednesday because his tonsils looked like Nepal and Tibet. At first, he was pretty happy to be missing his indoor drumline performance at the local middle school, where he feared the 12-year-olds might cast dispersions on him, but as we drove the 40 minutes to Cobb Pediatrics, where Mamoo has been the office manager for about 30 years, he started thinking about the trade-off.
Jack: This had better only be about my tonsils.
TR: What do you mean?
Jack: I MEAN Mamoo had better not have scheduled a check-up or shots or something.
TR: Are you due shots?
Jack: Remember I didn't get the one last time? They said I could get it later...
TR: Huh. Well, I dunno, if Mamoo looked at your chart--
Jack: Seriously, no shots today. They just need to look at my throat.
Well, Mamoo was out whooping it up at some medical professionals' conference downtown, but she had indeed scheduled a special visit for her grandson: A full physical. They gave him some forms, which he handed off to me to fill out, and Carla, the pretty little nurse, pushed and dragged him back to be weighed and measured.
Jack: I can't BELIEVE this!
TR: Please, you predicted it.
Jack: I'm going to kill Mamoo.
TR: You can't kill your grandmother. Your birthday is next week.
(Looking at the forms) Have you been sleeping ok?
TR: Are your periods light or heavy?
Jack: A heavy flow.
Carla: Do you have cramps?
Jack: Nothing Midol can't take care of.
TR: Do you ever feel hopeless or depressed?
Carla: Oh Jack, it's not going to be bad. Just a few shots...let's see...tetanus...hep A,...chicken pox booster...meningitis...
Jack: You've GOT to be kidding!
Carla: ...and a tiny finger prick.
Lola: Ha-ha, Jack.
Next, we shoved him down the hall and into the exam room, where he met with the doctor proper, who looked at Jack's throat and informed us that it was too late to treat his tonsils at this point--that they were healing up on their own and that Jack should just take Tylenol. I wish you could have seen the look on Jack's face when he realized he'd come for nothing but was getting something.
And I really wish you could have seen the look on his face when Carla returned with this and told him she'd put all his shots in one syringe so he'd only have to be stuck once:
Finding out the nurse was kidding: Priceless.