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Abby had her (month late) 9 month routine checkup today. I’ve been putting it off because of the swine flu and the overblown panic that ensued as a result. From all the news exposure and dire warnings in it’s prime, you would think the world was being attacked by brain eating zombies. At least that would have been entertaining. But, I figured enough time had passed; germ saturated toys at the doctor’s office, anyone?

Everything was fine while the statistics were being recorded: 22 pounds, 30 inches, what is this device around my head? She clung tightly to my shirt and kept a suspicious look in her eye while the normal developmental milestones were being discussed. Still, all was well. Until the evil that is the stethoscope came out. One touch on her back and it was as if her skin was melting off.

WAAAAH! “There’s no need for the tears, you’re not even getting a shot today,” I tried to reassure. WAAAAAAAAH! If she could talk, I’m sure she would have been spewing curse words right then.

“Wow,” the doctor exclaimed, “she’s got a temper.”

REALLY?! What ever makes you think that?