Since getting back from Austin back in March I haven’t been running at full speed. Heather would argue that since I began working from home, I’ve been plagued with colds and bad mucous and a bad humour on certain days. And she would be right. After hemming and hawing since mid-March, I finally made a trip to the doctor. I brought Leta so Heather could have some quiet time and because I am insane. I thought it would be perfectly fine to have Leta with me at the doctor’s office, because she could see that it’s not always bad to see the doctor.
They threw us into a room with toys and a small table. Leta was doing great until about three minutes in. I had decided to let her play while I looked at a car magazine, the kind I never look at but reserve for moments like these. I look up and I notice she’s making some noise that doesn’t sound good. I can hear the doctor outside the room, and then the smell hits me. Perfect like a violin concerto in your high school cafeteria during a food fight.
I factor in the time it will take to run to the car and grab the wipes and a diaper, plus the noise from yanking Leta away from the toys would cause and any additional waiting time for a diaper change. Before I can decide to fight or flight, the door opens.
“Uh…. Hi, I’m Jon and this is Leta. She’s chosen the perfect time to….” Before I can finish, the doctor says, “Poop?”
We finished the exam/appointment amidst the fresh, clean and spring-like scent of soiled Huggies. And now I get to let the Ambien® take over. Apparently, installing a new sewer line, having to pay for it out of pocket and having a kid have a blowout in a public place entitles me to sleep like a god.