Monday, October 07, 2019

Well child checks, part 1

Today I finally took two of our children in for a well-child check—you know just approximately three months after I made appointments for them because those were the only appointments available. I had a hard time finding a doctor that would take new patients at all (even insured ones) and the clinic that I did find has a two-kids-per-appointment rule so that means I will be going back to the doctor two more times with other sets of kids. Perhaps one day I'll convince them to bed the two-kid rule to allow me three in one appointment (because two appointments sounds better to me).

Anyway, it was supposed to be Rachel and Zoë today, but Rachel ended up having "interims" (short for interim examinations, or mid-terms, or whatever) this week and didn't want to miss school and have to make up her exams, so I shuffled kids around and took Miriam and Zoë in (with Alexander and Benjamin trailing along, naturally).

The doctor was concerned about Miriam's height and weight. She's small for her age, but just barely within the range of "healthy." All the doctor wanted to know—bless her— was if Miriam had always been small of stature and I said—mostly truthfully—that she had (we'll ignore her 3–9 month stage when she was a roly-poly thing). She checked out with flying colours on everything else.

Zoë was 41 inches (60th percentile) and 33.2 pounds (25th percentile), which is long and lean, but not as long and lean as Miriam, so well within a healthy range.

Zoë was hilarious. The doctor had more questions for her and Zoë was always ready with an answer.

"Can you spell your name?" the doctor asked.

"Yes," said Zoë confidently, fingerspelling in the air. "Z-O-E."

"Very good," the doctor said. "And can you write your name?"

Zoë stared at the doctor.

"Like, on paper with a pencil," I clarified.

"Yes..." Zoë said, cocking her head and squinting at the doctor like she couldn't believe this was a question. "It''s just the same way." Here she drew the letters in the air again. "Z...O...E," she said slowly and carefully (and somewhat patronizingly).

I'm not sure how much faith she had in the doctor after that.

"Can you jump?" the doctor asked.

"Yes!" Zoë said jumping.

"Can you jump on one foot?" the doctor asked.

"I...don't...know..." Zoë said, lighting up like this was the best idea ever (her faith in the doctor had been restored).

She spent the next several minutes hopping around the small and—due to the number of people we'd brought along to the appointment—crowded room.

"Do you know your colours?" the doctor asked. "What colour is a strawberry?"


"What colour is grass?"


"What colour is a pumpkin?"


"How high can you count?"

"Let's see: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8. Just 8 today."

"Can you count higher than that?"

"Yes, but not today."

"How high can she count, Mom?"

"She can get into the twenties but..."

"Mixes up the teens?"


"She's right on target."

The girls weren't thrilled about their shots (the boys were happy they only had to watch today) but they powered through them (and will hopefully be sympathetic to Benjamin and Rachel, who kept teasing Zoë and Miriam today (punching their sore arms and so forth), rather than paying them back in kind).

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