Max now happily dashes into the pediatrician's office, plays with toys in the waiting room and willingly does as the doc says. We've come a loooong way from his days of melting down the second we stepped foot in the parking lot. I've come a long way, too. I hated when we'd talk about developmental milestones. I loathed the part when the doctor would measure Max's head, and tell me how small his head circumference was.
Now that I'm past freaking out about those things, I wasn't dreading Max's annual check-up. I just never imagined it would be fun.
It started with the ear probe. Max genuinely likes having his ears looked at. So after the nurse did it and left, Max insisted that Dave and I check his ears, too. We've done the same in past years. This time around, though, Max insisted on examining us.
Years ago, we got Max a doctor's kit and he barely glanced at it. Sabrina, however, would regularly give Max exams. (When she wanted to be mean, she'd run and get the toy injector and threaten to give him shots.) Maybe it's time to get him another doctor play set, although at this point I think Max would like the real thing.
When the nurse walked in on Max looking at Dave with the ear probe, I thought, busted. Except all she said was, "So cute!"
Afterward, following proper medical procedure, Max removed the probe cover so he could shine the light into Dave's mouth. He thought we both looked good. Thankfully, he did not check my weight.
Last year, Doctor G. was a little concerned that Max wasn't growing fast enough. I reassured him that I had more than enough to worry about, and that we should wait and see. Within four months, Max had gained ten pounds. And now, he'd grown two inches (normal) and packed on another ten pounds. The doctor said, "Keep the weight gain in check" and so there will be mac 'n cheese cutbacks in his future.
Max had to get the meningitis vaccine. The shot wasn't a big deal—Max barely flinched. What was traumatic: When the doctor wrote a prescription for some blood work and didn't put Max's name all in capitals. (Max insists on that lately, and if he ever reads this blog I really will be busted.)
Before we left, the doctor wrote Max's name on another form, all in caps. Then at Max's request, I filled in the prescription for...
a talking Lightning McQueen.
