Can you hear me now?

There are all kinds of reasons why I hate going to urgent care. My co-pay is higher, the people in the waiting area seem sicker and the doctors seem like they would rather be just about anywhere else in the world.
So, when Miles stuck a bb in his ear the other night, I quickly weighed my options.
* leave the bb and play dumb until my husband is around to go with him and sit in the urgent care.
* try to fish is out myself.
* heck, the Dyson has some serious suction, I could always......
Although I seriously thought about the vacuum and even held it up to my ear to see if it would hurt, (it kind of did). I thought I would rather go to the urgent care to get a bb out than have to explain why my son had a bb in his ear and his eardrum had been sucked from his head.
Also, the other kids knew about the bb, so I figured they would call me out if I tried to play dumb and pass the job to Dad.
Three hours later after sitting as far as possible from all the mask wearing, feverish, flu symptomatic sickos, we got our call to see the doctor.
She came in and I think she was like 14 years old, and she says, "I hear someone has something suck in their ear, which one of you gets to see my cool 'light-saber'?"
I thought she was kidding, but she made no move towards Miles, so I kindly directed her away from me and toward my 7 year old son.
Really? Do you think they get a lot of adults in the Children's urgent care to have bbs dislodged from their ears? Apparently.
For the record, her 'light-saber' was cool. It was a little wand that glowed so she could see into the ear while she was fishing out the bb.
But then she stumped me again when she handed the glow stick to my son. Which he promptly stuck into his ear.
If he busts his eardrum, they better not charge me another co-pay.

He still Really likes that

My baby turned 9 years old over the weekend. Too big. Too soon.
He had a camp out this weekend with Cub Scouts and came home tired. He fell asleep on the couch with, of course, his hand in his pants.
It reminded me of this story.
When he was just a baby he was at one of his 'well-check' appointments and the doctor was giving him the once over.
I was rambling about whatever, as I do when I am nervous, or forced into a small space with another person.
Dr. Dickey (real name) was checking the boys privates and I happened to say, "He really likes the bath."
What Dr. Dickey heard was, "He really likes That."
He launched into this speech about how boys will be boys. Once they find their penis they don't ever want to let go. I should just be prepared for a life of grape-groping.
Huh? What? It took me a minute to figure out the miscommunication. By that time he had rambled so long about my son fondling himself for years to come, it would have been more embarrassing to correct him.
I just went with it. Listened as the good doctor told me it was normal for my son to play with himself. Super.
I went home and told my husband that our son's permanent medical record was now flagged with a big red "PERVERT" stamp.
Happy birthday my sweet boy. May you have many happy years ahead of you.