always be honest, except for when you lie

Sunday, February 06, 2005

give it to me straight, doc

Earlier I went into the play room in our basement to play with my kids. I combed hair, drove dinky cars, broke up spats and worked at the long standing issue of whether a Weeble will in fact ever fall down during the act of wobbling. Answer: no, not ever.

I also played Patient to my three and a half year old son's Doctor. Had my heart listened to: excellent thump thump thumping. My reflexes checked: seventeen different parts of my body reflected appropriate ouches! and heys! Had my blood pressure checked: not good news, signs of illness. I required bandaging and rather major surgery on my right leg, upper front panel. There were crutches involved.

Tell me, Doc, what's wrong with me? Will I live?

Nope. You got Chicken Pops.

Oh No! You better give me a hug! (I grab the doctor and hug him for being so cute)

No! Don't! You'll make me sick!

(I let go of my doctor, convinced that he is cuter than ever).

Back to the exam and further discoveries. Among them: my hair needs cutting and further surgery is required. It is not likely I iwll survive until my more than brilliant doctor pulls me from the brink, same like he did last week.

The guy really has the goods, doctor-wise.

Plus he's a really great son.