Tom Petty: The Wait Is The Hardest (and deadliest) Part
Let us all take a moment and reflect on the fact that Big E is four.
He is 25% of the way to legally driving. He is nine short years from his Bar Mitzvah (which because I have birthed zero daughters, will be like a wedding for me).
And he is thriving. Whatever Mr. Yoy and I are doing, seems to be working. So yay for not completely screwing up our kid. Just yet.
I have split this entry into two, because there are really two stories to tell.
The waiting room story and the actual check up portion of the day.
I was especially anxious about the waiting room. The flu is knocking people down like the Gators' defense (a much more timely reference before the Sugar Bowl blood bath).
I knew I was walking into the Super Bowl of germs and I was bringing my two healthy kids with me.
I never want to come off as crazy germ mom, but I couldn't help it. My eyes darted from kid to kid. Who was here for a well visit and who was dying of the flu or maybe something worse?
Big E immediately befriended a little girl, before I could determine if she was human or a sick zombie.
They stood at the fish tank and talked about the fish.
She juicily sneezed directly onto the tank. No covering her mouth. Her germs spewed everywhere.
Her mom looked over at me sheepishly and handed her daughter a tissue.
SH*T! SH*T! SH*T!
Big E was doomed.
Into the waiting room walked a family friend of Big E's new friend, sick girl. Sick girl's mom went on and on about whatever bacterial thing the little girl was afflicted with and how she's been on medicine, but has still had a fever for six days.
With each horrifying detail, I wanted to grab Big E and sanitize the hell out of him.
Luckily, the nurse walked in and we were whisked away to a different room with probably the same nasty germs.
I asked Dr. K about it and she said it was no worse then what he was exposed to at preschool. I felt 1% better.
For now, it's Germ Watch 2013 over at the Yoys.