And some things don't. Wyatt had his 18-month well-baby today and (drumroll please) he's still small.
We arrived right on time, only to find out that we needed to go back out to the front and get a card of non-eligibility. Huh? Basically I had to fill out a form saying we don't have any other insurance. I need a special card for that? I kind of thought my honest face and words would be enough. Guess not. Whose bright idea was it to generate extra paperwork, staff an extra position and spend money on little plastic cards? Need I mention that the gyms don't have towels due to budget constraints? Good planning Mr. Air Force Smarty Pants!
So anyway, we got back to peds and had to fill out some forms with basic yes/no questions, basic milestone questions (one of which was "can your child stack four blocks?" I didn't answer because I don't know. I mean, I think he's physically able, it just rarely happens before he decides to swing his arm through the tower in hopes of seeing said blocks fly across the room) and some standard release of information statements. Then the tech called us back to get Wyatt's height and weight. This is the first time they have had him stand on a scale and apparently that, plus the fact that Wyatt decreed today to be Bad Mood Wednesday, caused great trauma for my son. Screaming commenced. Then we were lead back to an exam room and you know what? The table was a lion! Just goes to show they don't get all the fancy stuff in Japan because there the table was just a table. Screaming continued. Then the tech left and I was working to get Wyatt calmed down when the tech popped back into the room.
Tech: Would it be okay if I grabbed a weight on him again? (motioning to the scale) I started plotting it and it looks like he's really...
Me: Small? It's because he is but we can weigh him again.
Tech: oh, yeah, same weight. Okay, thanks. The doctor will be in soon.
Me: Want some o's?
Wyatt: SCREAM (reaching for bag)
Wyatt: chomp chomp chomp (smiling for the first time in hours. Okay, minutes, but they felt like hours)
Dr.: You must be Wyatt! Hello. (friendly smile)
Dr: Okay, well, has he always been...
Me: Small? Yes. He likes to support the 2nd and 3rd percentile. I have a copy of his records if you'd like to look at them since ours haven't arrived yet. (sidenote: we left Japan two months ago. Our eight thousand pounds of furniture have arrived in Virginia. How can it be that a manila folder of records still hasn't made it?)
Dr.: (flipping through chart) Where is his growth chart...oh, here it is. Great! He's right on track!
And then you know what happened? She moved on. She didn't dwell, she didn't interrogate me about how much or what he eats, she didn't suggest there was anything wrong with my child at all. When she asked if I had concerns, I said that of course we'd love for him to shoot up the charts and she laughed and said, "well, that's not going to happen". But she didn't say it in mean or pessimistic way. Rather it was as if she said, "that's not who he is. He's fine just being Wyatt." And of course she's right.
Being Bad Mood Wednesday and all, Wyatt screamed through the entire exam. It was the kind of crying that sounds as though he's truly hurt, the kind of crying that turns into whole-body sobs and gives a kid hiccups. So you can imagine how well it went at immunizations (two shots from Miss Dorothy who obviously sees no need for speed in these situations) and at the lab where they pricked his finger to get a vial of blood. We had a splendid afternoon at the clinic. I'm sure the clinic had a splendid afternoon with us, too!
But you know what? Wyatt's moods change on a dime, so with help from a dinosaur bandage, some almost-skipping while holding my hand and the sight of a whole bunch of wa-wa outside (rainy days do make some people happy, apparently), he was laughing by the time we got in the car. I love my sweet little boy!