Ever since the birth of Emma and Kate, I have given the family updates on their wellness exams via their own email accounts. This was the first time Emma wrote her own email to the family. I wrote for Kate since she is preoccupied in her bedroom for the rest of her life.
Subject: 7 year check-up!
i had a doctor appt today. no shots,woohoo! i am growing big!
i am 49.5 inches tall and weigh 54.5 pounds! whoa!
the doctor checked my tummy and my heart and my back. my ears looked super clean bc i got them cleaned out by the ear doc a few weeks ago. i had a lot of wax. thanks daddy for passing that trait to me.
i got a sucker and a sticker for being good.
Subject: 4 year check-up!
I am sitting in my room in a very long time-out right now.
I had a doctor appointment today too. I tried to warn mommy for the wrath of Kate that was coming. She ignored my “I HATE DOCTORS!” warning during the car ride.
The nurse called Emma and me back to one of the rooms. I watch Emma and mommy walk off while I stood in the waiting room with my arms crossed, repeating again: I HATE DOCTORS!
Mommy carried me to the room. The nurse asked us to take off our shoes. NO!
Emma got weighed and measured. I glared at the nurse. I SAID NO DOCTORS!
The nurse asked if I wanted a sucker. Yes, I want a sucker. Mommy said I needed to stand on the scale first. NO! Mommy picked me up while the nurse weighed both of us. I don’t know how the nurse got an accurate weight because I was kicking and screaming in mommy’s arms. Apparently, I weigh 40 pounds. No, nurse. I don’t care how much I weigh! I don’t care if I’m a big girl! My wild unbrushed hair was shaking, my face was red, tears were streaming down my face. I spit in the nurse’s face.
Let me repeat that statement: I spit in the nurse’s face.
The nurse gave up on getting a height measurement. The nurse laughed off my behavior. Mommy was not laughing. Her jaw was clenched. If her eyes could shoot fire, they would start firing right at me. The nurse made a note on my chart. Emma was giggling. I never got the sucker.
The nurse shut the door and told us to wait for the doctor.
Uh oh. It was just me, mommy and Emma in the room. Mommy got all up in my face. She said I wouldn’t have any swimming today, no lunch, no fun. I just stared at her. She said I am in the most trouble I have ever been in. Just wait until I’m 16. Then mommy pulled out the big gun – she called daddy at work. But really, what does that do? I wouldn’t have to deal with him until he comes home.
I already made a mess of myself, might as well continue on. I slapped Emma on the back for no reason then kicked her. Emma fell off the chair and hurt her leg. She started crying. Uh oh. I ran. I ran out the door and into the hallway.
Mommy didn’t chase me. Mommy stayed in the room. I peeked around the corner and mommy was shooting her fireballs with her eyes again. The doctor walked up behind me and I ran and sat on mommy’s lap.
The doctor looked at my chart and said something about me being 4 but I’m still holding on to 3 for a little bit longer. Whatever that means.
The doctor checked Emma out. Then she got to me. Mommy had to bear hug me while the doctor checked my heart. It’s funny how that stethoscope feels like needles being gently placed into my chest.
The doctor said 7 years old and 4 years old are two great ages. Mommy said she’s still waiting for the 4 year old. I glared at her. Doesn’t she know this blonde-haired fury is 4?
Can someone bring me some chocolate milk? I’m still in my room waiting to get out.