So we played doctor last night.
And it was great.
No, it's not what you're thinking.
It was K and me, and it was great for a couple of reasons:
- K got to pretend to be a doctor, and I'm all for practicing being something of worth. I'd love for her to be a doctor or a writer or a... actually, I'd love for her to be whatever the hell she wants to be, as long as she wants to be it. I love that at this point in her life, there are no limits. She sees a figure skater and wants to do that. She sees a paddler and wants to do that. We spend time looking through the Title 9 catalog together, focusing on the wonderful pictures of active women doing things like surfing, swiming, biking, and she wants to "do that!" Yes! Do it! Do it all!!
- I got to lie on the couch and stick out my tongue, turn so she could use a flashlight to peer into my ears, pull my shirtsleeve up to get a shot.... in other words, it was low-impact, low-energy for the patient (me) and lots of hard work based on minutes of training and on periodic "I going to ask the ananano (other) doctor" pauses while K went to see what M thought about my various conditions.
Some choice quotes from my doc:
- "How you feeling today?" (nice bedside manner!)
- "This going feel kind of weird, but it help you get better quickly." (on learning I needed a shot)
- "How WAS you sleeping?" (clearly well trained in asking all the important background questions)
- "This your bed? You sleeping with your wife?" (took me by surprise and I started wondering where this was going to go, but was relieved when, on telling her I was, she told me)
"That good. Get good sleep." (and I exhaled in relief)
L had stripped down to her diaper and was running back and forth between kitchen (where M was working at her computer) and living room (where K was examining me). I'd hear L shout in her oh-so-gentle voice,
"I going to work. I love you! Goodbye!"
and then come racing into the living room where she'd crash into the couch next to my head, counting on couch cushions and her belly to bring her to a halt.
And I'd say to her, "Go to work, I love you! Good bye!" and she'd yell "OK!" and race back into the kitchen.
For all you non-parents, a word of caution: this type of behavior 20 minutes before bedtime does NOT burn off energy and tire the kid out. Rather, it winds them up and leaves them standing in their crib, wanting to keep on going to work for looooooong minutes past bedtime.
A choice quote:
L (yelling from her crib): "Mamadaddy, you need me!"
And downstairs we're thinking: "Um.... no, not at the moment, but yeah, you're right. We do need you. You have no idea just how much."
For you parents, this is so obvious that you're wondering what the hell I was thinking. My only defense -- I've been under a doctor's care so I'm not thinking straight.