More doctor anxiety

Molly had a simple follow-up appointment yesterday with the orthopedic doctor to check on the way her toes turn in a little when she walks. It should have been very simple. They don't weigh her or poke anything at her, just watch her walk and measure the angle of her lower legs to make sure it's getting better on its own. The doctor's really friendly, we'd been there a couple times before without incident, no big deal.

Well, Molly was fine in the waiting room until a woman in colorful scrubs came to the door and said, "Molly? Are you ready?"

Molly shook her head no. I laughed and picked her up and she started crying. By the time we stepped into the exam room she was screaming, just absolutely freaking out. The woman was talking to her, trying too soothe her but Molly was a mess. I couldn't even get her attention to calm her down. So apparently just the look of a doctor's office -- any doctor's office -- triggers her anxiety.

She calmed down pretty quickly once the nurse left us alone in the room and we talked about how the doctor was going to look at her legs, how it might be scary but I would be there and he wasn't going to hurt her. I told her that if she got scared she could say "Mommy hug" and I would hug her. We practiced saying it.

Didn't matter. As soon as the doctor opened the door she went bonkers. I tried all the things I wished I had done last time she freaked out -- mainly trying to validate her feelings rather than tell her it's OK (ala Happiest Toddler on the Block) by saying "You're scared! You're scared! You don't want the doctor to touch you! You want him to go away! You're scared!" Didn't matter. She wasn't even hearing me.

So we decided to try again in a couple months. (They collected the copay anyway, of course. Grrr!!!)

I hate seeing the look in the doctors' and nurses' eyes, the look that says they think she's a problem patient. As nice as they've been, they all project attitude that we've failed to be good patients rather than that they've failed to approach Molly in a way that doesn't scare her. It's infuriating!

The good part of the visit was that while we were in the waiting room talking about legs, I asked Molly how many legs she has and she said "two."

We've been playing around with the word "two" since a couple days ago when we were feeding the bunny. Every morning I count out loud, "one, two" as I put the scoops of food into the bowl. That day I said "one" and Molly said "two."

She got so excited about "two legs" that the answer to every "how many" question was "two" (much like how the answer to every "what color" question is "purple.") Apparently she and Jim did some work on it last night in the bathtub because this morning he asked her how many heads she has and she said "one." She loves this game.

She also loves to accessorize. This is from the other morning playing with Daddy while I was in the shower. (There's a picture she made him take where he's wearing all the accessories, but I'll save his dignity by not publishing it).


Here she is picking peas. Every day I think we've picked the last of them, but she somehow finds more. She picks a lot of flat ones, but it's a small price to pay to keep her occupied while I pull weeds.


She likes to help in the kitchen, but she was getting a little agressive about poking her fingers in the bread dough so Jim made her her own out of flour and water. She was pretty happy about that.