I try to avoid finding child care for my kids when I have a quick appointment. So I take them with me. It's cute for them to hear their sister's heartbeat. And in the middle of keeping them quiet and entertained in the office, I mean closet, I always regret this decision.
My last doctor's appointment was no exception. It took thirty minutes before she came in to see me. THIRTY MINUTES. With a toddler and a hyper-active 4 year old. In a closet. With no windows. Did I mention one of those two is a screamer. And when I say screamer, I mean the one you hear echo through the corridores of a mall and exchange looks with your spouse like 'thank goodness that's not OUR noise to contain!' kind of scream. The kind that makes you instantly look for the source because it is so shrill you are certain the kid just had an arm ripped off by an alligator and then got slapped in the face with it 54 times. But in all actuality, just a lone goldfish cracker dropped to the ground. You could say one of us has anger management issues to sort out.
So I do one of two things. Grit my teeth and speak to them in my demon mommy voice that starts with "so help me if you two don't pull it together..." or I am mommy sunshine and we play I Spy. That was the route I choose to go. Only because I didn't know I would have to hold my $hit together for THIRTY MINUTES inside that closet.
So in the process of playing the game, Zane asks if the item I spy is the pink brain. Then he declares, "Hey, I want to have a closer look at that brain! Can I touch it?" It's then I appreciate that this office doesn't have the usual self breast exam* poster on the back of the door. Or labor positions complete with curly hair groin sketchings. Or wait, is that only in The Joy of Sex book?
Regardless, thank you doctor's closet for being PG.
