Trauma at the Doctor's Office

Months ago, Little A viewed his check-up visits at the doctor's office as a somewhat exciting jaunt. He got to see lots of children and other babies. Enjoy the attention of doctors and nurses. Most importantly, he got to be naked. Now that he's a little older, the luster is gone from these visits, only to be replaced by terror.

Thursday, we went for Little A's one year check-up. He was smiley at the receptionist. The wait wasn't long so he was very quiet and subdued in the holding area. Then we get into the examine room, the nurse lays out the little changing pad on the table, and the waterworks started. The sobbing continued as Mommy A removed his clothes (No joy in The Naked anymore.) and kicked up a notch on the scale for weighing and measuring. Back in the exam room, he calmed down some after I dressed him. Additional comfort was provided by Monkey and Mommy A's rendition of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat". There was intermittent tears during his exam. He did manage to go through his repertoire of tricks for our nurse practitioner. She was especially impressed with his "What does the cow say?" response and his ability to stick his tongue out on command. But when the NP and doc had to examine some suspect healing with his circumcision... Whoa the howls started up again.

Of course, this put him in no better mood to get his two shots (one in the arm and one in leg). Hysteria quickly ensued. I had only gotten him calmed down completely, when the lab was ready to prick his finger for blood. This process was worse than the shots and seemed to last twice as long. It didn't help that the lab tech, while sweet, had a very loud, shrill voice. Little A was not amused in the least. By the time we got home, Mommy and Little A were both utterly exhausted. Mommy thought about imbibing during her baby's morning nap time.

We don't go to the doctor very often, in fact we've only had one sick visit for his entire year. So it's strange that all of the sudden he would come to have this tremendous aversion to the doctor's. Apparently, this fear and the resulting sobfest will only continue to get worse. The NP commented that these reactions were even more heightened in bright babies. (There I've said it. The nurse called my baby "bright". Look at the big brain on Alastair. Done bragging now.)

Sweeeet.

In other, less baby-centric news, I stumbled across the new Disney Parks ad campaign. Beyonce as Alice leaves a really foul taste in my mouth, not unlike vomit. Probably because I think she is so totally plastic and manufactured and miles away from the spirit of the Alice character. But she's nothing compared to the offensiveness of Scarlett "Whore" Johannsen and her breasts as Cinderella. Ick.