99% Baby

Diana asked me if I wanted to attend Elijah’s 2 year old doctor ‘s visit. I scrunched up my nose and said, “Isn’t that a mommy job?” Fighting the urge to stab me with something, Diana asked what exactly the daddy jobs were. Knowing 9 out of the 10 things I could say would deduct points towards Friday Night Beer Drinking Night, I said, “Um…going to Eli’s 2 year old doctor visit?”

I meekly asked if he would be getting inoculations. Diana said most likely. I made a beeping noise and picked up my iphone.

“What? An advertising emergency? I’ll be right there!” But no dice. I was in for any and all needles poked into my son.

Of course, all morning Eli was in great spirits. As he gleefully leapt into my arms, I looked at him sadly.

“Man, you don’t even know how bad you’re going to get it today. Probably in your butt.”

But Eli just kept singing the Sesame Street theme song in his hilarious robot monotone.

Time came to head to the doctors. I started to sweat. I did not want to be party to this. As we drove there was happy as ever. “Mo Goldfish? Outside play?”

When we arrived, Eli b-lined to the germ-covered trucks in the corner of the room. In the distance, we heard a baby shrieking.

Eli cocked his head and said, “Baby sad?”

I said, “He’s probably getting shots. Look. I’ll cause a distraction and you make a break for it. I’ll meet you at The Exploratorium in one hour.”

But the nurse called his name and we were led back into the little room. Our doctor was cool and nice and answered all our weird questions and measured him. 99% yet again. He is the Yao Ming of two year olds.

And then…she said, “That’s it. See you in a year.” I sprang up from the crinkly paper table.

“That’s it? No shots?”

“Nope. No inoculations today.”

I could see on Diana’s face she was debating asking for unnecessary shots just to make it worth my while. But we ended up leaving to rescue Grover from the groomers, the dog equivalent of inoculation.