Last summer, Joe and I stopped at a multi-family yard sale. By the time we finally left, we’d spent about $60.
Our SUV was literally packed full of tools, toys, books, and assorted stuff. One of the great buys we found was a toy doctor’s bag, overflowing with toy doctor’s tools.
It cost us 50 cents.
Grace has gotten our 50 cents’ worth of enjoyment out of that medical bag at least 10 times over.
We’ve all been her patient – Joe and me, her babies and stuffed animals, even the cats if they hang around in the living room too long.
This week, it was Joe’s turn.
I check you out, Grace told him, right before she whacked him on the knee with her little reflex hammer.
You have good refex, Daddy! Good job!
She put the hammer back into her tool kit and found her stethoscope.
Be still, she scolded. I listening to your heart. She gave him a stern look and continued listening.
With the stethoscope around her neck.
Your heart sounding good, Daddy. Good job.
Without warning, she jammed her toy thermometer into his mouth. Joe coughed once, and I reminded him that she could’ve taken her temperature in a different location.
He didn’t find my humor all that funny.
Daddy, you are happy or sad? Happy or sad? Smiley? Frowny?
The thermometer has a smiley face and a frowny face, each with corresponding temperatures. Joe apparently waited too long to report his temperature, so Grace decided for him.
You happy, Daddy! Yeah! She clapped for him.
You know, the most dreaded part of any doctor’s appointment comes at the end.
You need a shot to stay healthy, Daddy. I give you a shot.
“That’s right, Daddy. You need a shot to stay healthy! Maybe you should get five shots! We want you to be very healthy!” I chimed in from the couch.
Joe covered his face with his arm and boohooed like a girl.
Grace and I laughed and laughed.
Five shots, Daddy! We want you to be very healthy!
Every time she gave him a shot, he jumped and started crying all over again.
Don’t cry, Daddy! You healthy! You a brave little boy! I give you a sticker, okay? A sticker make you feel better.
He mumbled something about a stiff drink making him feel better.
That may have been the best 50 cents I ever spent.
© 2010 – 2018, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.