We three Doctors

My Daughter, Peanut, has a rather disturbing love of going to the Doctor. She will beg and plead to go to the “office” as she puts it. She will ask to get shots, have her finger poked for a blood draw, or to have someone listen to her heart. Not that I’m surprised, she’s been going to one doctor or another at LEAST once a month her whole life. It probably averages out to one visit a week if you were to evenly spread them out. When it’s Cake’s turn, she gets upset. At Cake’s well-visits Peanut will beg our pediatrician “my turn, my turn” while pulling up her shirt and pointing at her chest.

The thing that is really scary is that she knows the difference between her three doctors. If I tell her we are going to the heamatologist, she starts tapping her thumb and forefinger together and saying “poke, poke”. If I say we are off to the cardiologist, she says “listen my heart” (I can’t type her cute little two year old accent, wish I could). If it’s the pediatrician she always says “my turn, my turn”. So, I guess she realises that sometimes it’s Cake’s turn and she wants to be sure it’s not that time.

Lucky for us, Cake shouldn’t have this crazy obsession, as she only has the one doctor. Thank goodness.



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