Dr. E (does not stand for Evil)

Yesterday I took off work early to take both boys to their yearly checkups at the pediatrician.  I love my pediatrician - its the same group of doctors that I went to as a child,and our doctor specifically is so cute he reminds me of Yoda, without the green skin and pointy ears. He's about 5'4", soft spoken, shuffling through the halls painted in bright primary colors.  He has seen it all in 40+ years of pediatrics, and is so laid back sometimes you want to flick him just to make sure he's alive and not being steered by a little alien inside a flip-top lid of a head.  But laid back is exactly what I needed in a pediatrician, as I am a bit of a hypochondriac myself (SHUT UP, husband) and tend to get freaked by small things like bug bites or bee stings (OMG his throat is closing and he can't breathe AGGHHHHH! No honey, he stopped screaming because he's calmed down now... Er, wha? Oh.)  Or random red, prickly rashes that cannot immediately be identified. It could be heat rash. Which my kids get all the time.  Or hives. Or scarlet fever, or chicken pox. Wait, that looks like measles! Hand, foot and mouth disease! Fifths disease! Impetigo!  (Sometimes, the internet is not my friend.)

Anyway. Point is, even if I go dragging my kids into the doctor for something completely meaningless and stupid, he never actually makes me feel stupid. Bonus.

In case you need a pediatrician in the the greater KC area, his name is Dr. Russell Etzenhouser, but we call him Dr. E.  It's a little easier on preschooler's sound techniques.

So back to my story.  We have our physicals, Drew get's a referral to an ENT since his hayfever allergies appear to be getting worse, and Will gets a referral to an Opthamologist because he didn't do so well on the vision test, and may need glasses. (Just what every mom of an active kindergarten boy hopes for - a prescription for expensive and necessary breakable things.)  Then, Dr. E flips through the charts one last time and realizes that Will hasn't had a second chicken pox booster.  By this point, the boys were re-dressed and playing games on my phone, so they weren't really listening. 

Dr. E says goodbye, since pediatricians long ago figured out not to give their patients shots themselves, as then the kids will hate them no matter what happens.  They make the nurse do it.  And so a minute later the nurse comes in, all cheery. 

Drew looks up from the game on my phone, and under his breath says "OH. NO."
Will stares at her like she's wearing a black cape and carrying a scythe.

"Are you Will?" she says.  Drew points toward Will sitting on my lap, not taking his eyes off her.
Will continues to stare, his mouth falls open slightly. 
The nurse swabs the side of his leg with an alcohol soaked cotton ball, and suddenly Will's fight or flight response kicks in.  Thankfully he is already on my lap, I squeeze harder, and she is quick. 
Drew plugs his ears and says loudly, "Do you mind if I step outside?"

After she is gone, Dr. E stops back in while we collect our things and Will continues crying, angrily.  He never even acknowledges that the shot took place, as if he had nothing to do with it.  Sly creature.