Vital stats and mama's foibles

Edith had her third birthday physical today. We realized that it would be different from previous pediatrician's visits, in that she would be a self-aware participant this time. Since she hadn't had to visit a doctor since her second birthday (praise be!), we realized she had no conscious memory of a doctor's office. So we talked with her ahead of time about what to expect, narrating the sequence of events as best we imagined it would unfold and making it sound like an exciting outing. Right before we left, Tom got out her doctor's kit and played with her, pretending to use the stethoscope, blood pressure cuff, etc.

True to medical Murphy's law, Edith was healthy all year and then this past weekend (1) fell out of bed and hit her doll stroller, gashing her cheek, (2) launched into a full-blown cold (we thought it had petered out). So we were taking a sniffling, weepy, visibly injured kid to the doctor's office for her "well-child" visit. I told Edith that Dr. L might ask about the cut on her cheek, just so she would be prepared to respond if necessary and wouldn't clam up.

Our prepping had a positive effect, though these things never go perfectly smoothly. The nurse who called Edith had a great manner and immediately put her at ease. Of course, anyone who asks Edith to take off her shoes, rather than put them on/keep them on, already has a leg up.

We had told Edith about stepping on the scale and standing up straight for her height to be measured, and she was ready to do both.

Stats:
33 pounds
37.25 inches

We didn't know she would have an eye exam, however. The nurse told her they were going to play a game. She showed Edith four shapes in outline and asked her to name them. I guess they first need to establish what the preschooler is going to call these things. Even though two of them were a little abstract, Edith called each of them what I would have: house, circle, apple, and square.

Then she positioned Edith at a point in the hallway and told her that they each were going to wear a pair of funny glasses. She put a pair of glasses on Edith that had one eye hole covered and one open. She put the other pair of glasses on herself (a smart move, I thought). She backed down the hall, knelt down, and showed Edith a card featuring a row of smaller copies of the shapes she had identified. She had Edith name each one she pointed to. Edith thought that was fun. Then she told Edith they were going to switch glasses and play again.

By the time this was done, Edith was convinced the doctor's office was an even better place than we'd indicated. When the nurse told her they were going to play the Hug-your-Arm game and that she had to keep her eyes on the numbers on the wall to see the color change while her arm got a hug, Edith sat perfectly entranced and uncomplaining for a blood pressure check.

Then the nurse told her to get undressed--another thing Edith only wishes she could do in public more often. By the time the nurse left us to wait for the doctor, Edith was wired. She climbed all over the examining table, stalked like a tiger, hopped like a frog, danced, and told us over and over that only lucky kids like her and (Richard Scarry's) Lowly Worm get to go to the doctor's office.

So when Dr. L came in and began talking to us, she got the impression that our fairly physically cautious kiddo was a regular little monkey.

We may have punctured that image a bit when we confirmed that she can't pedal a trike yet. Dr. L said spring and summer were the seasons to master that and to keep encouraging her. And she urged us to encourage Edith to dress herself, which I guess other three year olds can do. She also said (interestingly, I thought) that we'd give Edith another year of being a picky, toddler-esque eater, obviously still offering her a range of foods, before starting to be more proactive about that. And she told us that sometime in the next year she should have her first dental appointment--also good to know.

On the other hand when she asked whether Edith was using three or four words in a row yet, we laughed. And when she asked whether we thought Edith knew one color yet, we laughed. It took us awhile to realize she was waiting to hear which color. And when she asked if we had seen Edith try to engage in imitative, imaginative play at all, we cut her off preemptively as if she were being a little silly.

And then she asked Edith her name. And this child who recites poetry and can tell you any one of dozens of stories, who knows not only her name but the full names of all her relatives, who can tell you her full address and the state in which each of her relatives live, and whose sentences include any number of subordinate modifying clauses, of course, fell silent. Edith has a habit of not answering questions that sound to her like something the person asking should already know--I think she suspects a trick. So she just stared at Dr. L. Then she stared at me, as I encouraged her to answer the question.

"You tell her," she said to me.

I tried again. She repeated, "You tell."

So Dr. L asked how old she was. She held up three fingers--which is fine, but why not just say "three"?

Dr. L asked if she were a boy or girl and she continued to stare, and then finally said, in the most babyish of voices, "Gooul..."

"And is Daddy a boy or a girl?"

Edith started to warm up just a bit, perhaps sensing another game beginning.

"Boy."

"And am I a boy or a girl?" she asked.

I was almost wishing Edith would answer the way she responded to a similar question the other day: "Well if you have a vagina, then you're a girl. And if you have a penis, then you're a boy." But this time she simply said "girl."

Dr. L seemed satisfied for the moment, but I sat there fretting. I reminded myself that Dr. L knows that kids are unpredictable and that she probably didn't think we were lying about the sentences and the colors. But I guess it's hard to shake the "good girl who wants to ace the test and prove to the authority figure that she (or her offspring) knows the answers" mentality.

And then finally, Dr. L was checking her belly and making small talk, and Edith heard the question she had been waiting for. "How did you get the boo-boo on your face?" she asked casually.

"Well, one thing that happened is that I turned three. Then I got a big girl bed. Then last night [sic] I fell out of it. And Daddy heard me go bump early in the morning."

Dr. L finished feeling Edith's belly and made notes on the chart. "She's really good at the verbal stuff," she remarked. Whew.

And yet I'm a self-confirmed nerd, still wishing she'd said her name when asked.