Little Girl.

Today I had to take two of the kids from work to the doctors. Both were perfectly healthy, we just needed to grab a script. We went to the doctors that we use when we know what we want and we don’t need anything figured out or diagnosed. He’s expensive, but it’s quick.

It works much like a deli. He has one of the number dispenser machines, the flashing numbers on the wall. No receptionist. He just sits at his desk and calls out from within the room… next. It’s $70 for a 15 minute visit no matter what your age. Kids are quite often free at most surgeries, not this one.

We took a number and sat in the sterile, white waiting room. We read magazines from early last year. The kids looked at some old National Geographics reading up on Malaria. Exciting stuff.

I had given the kids a talking to in the car. Last time we visited they went a bit crazy. The doctor is a bit eccentric, a bit different. They think it’s discreet to laugh and whisper in my ear when the doctor is less than a metre away. I wasn’t having any of this today. They were under strict orders to not talk at all through our appointment. I would do the talking. They would do the sitting and being quiet.

I visited this particular doctor one Sunday when Lacey was 4 weeks old. I had a horrible cough, and so did Lacey. I was feeling horrid. He told me that I was so sick, because I was fat. If I was skinny like him, I would be better by now. My thoughts? Dude… See this little thing in my arms? I popped her out just 4 weeks ago. Cut me some slack. Write me a script and I’m outy. See ya.

Reality? I nodded. Agreed. Yes, I’m fat. You’re right. $140 later, I had a script and I was outy. See ya.

Back to today. The appointment was over and we were ready to go. He asked: Would any of you kids like a chocolate freckle? Both the kids surprisingly said no. He looked at me. Would you like a chocolate freckle?

I shook my head and said no thank you, surprised that he was asking me after our conversation so many months ago.

He smiled and said: You know there’s a little girl inside you?

I must have shot him the most perplexed look.

Little girl?

Am I pregnant? How does he know? No, I know I’m not so what is he talking about….?

Does he think I ate a little girl? No, I don’t eat little girls…?

Little girl? This man is crazy. He knows I’ve given birth to Lacey months ago, right?

He then went to say: You need to look after that little girl inside you too. Never forget that. Look after her too.

I finally figured out what he was talking about as we left the room. He really shouldn’t get all deep with me when I am surviving on such little sleep.

We stepped outside and my silent little duo curled over in laughter on the footpath right outside the front door and let out big belly fulls of laughter. They couldn’t stop laughing. We all laughed and laughed.

Laughter is the best medicine. Thank you doctor. xx