Today was our slightly delayed 2 1/2 year check-up at the pediatrician’s office. The vital stats are:
- Height: 37 1/2 inches. 75th percentile.
- Weight: 29 1/2 pounds (in heavy diaper). 40th percentile.
- No head measurement! (but struggling to get a size 3T polo over his head is telling)
All parts present and accounted for. Speech right on track if not slightly ahead of the curve. Walking, climbing, stepping, and basic cognition all demonstrated for the doctor. We’ll be back the next time he’s sick or when he’s three, whichever comes first.
So nothing new. Except Dr. Newstadt wasn’t in today, so we saw Dr. Abrams. Or, as Simon called her, “Dr. Karen.” And despite telling me he did not want to go to the doctor, telling me he was “scared”, and taking along both dirty dogs for comfort, he did not wail when she entered the room.
Nor did he wail when she listened to his chest, looked in his ears, looked down his throat, palpitated his abdomen, and made sure all his boy parts were inventoried. When the exam was over, he said a cheerful, “Thank you, Doctor Karen,” as requested.
Hm. Now, the deck was clearly stacked in Dr. Karen’s favor. He didn’t need shots. He wasn’t sick. We better prepared for this trip. We could explain everything as she was doing it, and this time he could understand. She spoke in a bright mommy voice. She’s not much older than me. She’s pretty. She has hair like mine. Her kids went to KIP, so she could ask Simon about all his teachers.
Whereas Dr. Newstadt always saw a younger, frequently sicker version of Simon; he looks nothing like Matt (but possibly a tiny bit like my oldest brother) or his teachers, and he does not speak in a bright, mommy voice. And his kids are long out out preschoool.
So while I really like Dr. Newstadt and think he’s a great clinician, I have some thinking to do about future visits.