"It's a party over here, a party over there. Put your hands in the air. Shake your derriere." That's from a song, right? I'm pretty sure it's also Anna's philosophy on life. The girl is non-stop fun! Dancing, singing, performing (sometimes at inopportune times, such as during church)...to her, life is a good time.
Unless she's visiting the doctor.
We had Anna's 15 month well baby visit yesterday. I picked her up from daycare just as she was finishing lunch and she pulled her usual "Daddy?" as in, "You don't usually pick me up, Ma, what's the deal?" When I started putting on her shoes, she thought she had it figured out - FIELD TRIP!
She chattered away to me from the backseat all the way to the doctor's office. Probably telling me just exactly how her light pink pants had turned a strange, streaky shade of mud in just the few hours since I'd gotten her dressed for the day. I bet her excuse was a good one. I'll let it slide this time.
Even as we entered the reception area, she was still in party mode. Playing with my glasses, hiding behind her sippy cup, all was right with the world. But she became suspiciously quiet when her name was called by Mary, the nurse, and we followed her down the hall to the exam room. Fear not, that quiet was replaced by ear-shattering, blood-curdling, heart-breaking screams as she realized that I had done it again. Mean, mean mom had brought her to the one place where there is no party.
We didn't get an accurate weight because she was clinging so tight to my arms that we couldn't pry her off to put her on the scale. We couldn't get an accurate height because she was wrestling so hard to get off the table. We couldn't hear her heart, well, because nobody within a 4 block radius could hear anything but her screaming. And all the while she glared at me with a hurt and accusing look of betrayal.
The doctor told me he was impressed that someone her size could fight so hard. He said he'd never seen a 15-month-old wrestle herself away from two adults with the wiry, efficiency Anna displayed. "Thank you!" I said. I think he meant it as a complement. I hope he did. He may have just been afraid. It took me laying across her, pinning her hands above her head and the nurse pinning Anna's legs with her body to get Anna prepped for her two shots. I'm not even sure she knows she got shots. She was just SO MAD that we would even think of putting her on a paper covered table in this accursed place. No book, pacifier, animated version of Old MacDonald, funny dance from mom would make up for this at all...but wait, that Tigger sticker? Yeah, that'll do it.
Long story short, I've got a healthy kiddo who is ONE HECK OF A FIGHTER, according to the doctor. A fighter and a party animal. Yeah, that's my kid.
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