- I like well-child appointments. I know some people feel they’re a gimmick to get your money or let other people stick their noses in your lives. I am not one of those people. I like talking with someone about how my kid is doing and making sure everything seems all hunky-dory. I judge not if you feel differently! But I will continue to follow the recommended schedule.
- My kid knows way too much about blood pressure cuffs. That child has had his blood pressure taken no fewer than fifty times in the past six months. It’s crazy. “It just feels like an arm hug,” he says. “I’m hoping it’ll be close to 100 over 60. That’s my goal. It’ll give me some cushion from having a vaso-vagal response.” I mean… what kid needs to know that???
- He is tall. We knew this already, but it was again confirmed.
- Our practice is WAY concerned about childhood obesity. Seriously. Nationwide, Connecticut has one of the lowest percentages of overweight/obese people, but our pediatricians are ON it, let me tell you. Our kid is in the 75th percentile for weight. While that sounds high, he’s actually really lean because he’s so tall. So– all good. (And no obnoxious “talks” from the docs.)
- Despite their focus on childhood obesity, our pediatricians are smart enough to not place the blame for it on whole milk– yay! There’s been a very good shift from “skim or 1% only!” to “fewer junky foods!” Excellent news. I do NOT believe skim milk makes anyone fat. I also don’t think whole milk makes people fat. I don’t think milk is making people fat, period. I think soda, cheetos, and oreos all deserve more of the blame, quite frankly.
- My child is very, very honest. When asked if he’s good about brushing his teeth, he replied, “Yes. Well, sometimes I rush a little. I should spend more time. I’ll work on that.” The pediatrician thought that was a riot.
- Apparently, most eight-year-old boys don’t cite “salmon, with a side of watermelon with feta” as a “dream meal.” But mine does. Ha!
- I am one of those apparently rare moms who kept my kid in a booster seat LONGER than he needed to be. Word on the street is far more people ditch the seats too early. Ah, well. Neither of us is scarred from it and I’m definitely in the “better safe than sorry” camp.*
- This is the easiest appointment of ALL. Seriously. Babies and toddlers need to be wrangled, they cry through shots (assuming you get them; do NOT open that can of worms here, people– please), and you have to answer nine gazillion questions. Eight-year-olds? Can follow directions, answer questions, and require no shots. We’re not even to the age where they bring up that Gardasil jazz yet. (You can ask my opinion about that one NEXT year, ‘k?)
- Eight-year-olds, even boys, still like stickers. They’re just super chill and non-chalant about it. Like, “Oh, is that the amazing Spiderman? Well, since it’s CLASSIC Spiderman, I guess it’d be cool.”
I love this age. I love them all. But having an eight-year-old is truly super fun.
*When I mentioned this on Facebook, it spiralled into a whole “you know doctors and police and everyone else in the world can be WRONG and you might be putting your kid in harm’s way” discussion. That was never my intention. (I seem really bad at predicting what will get people fired up on FB– my apologies for that.) I assure you that we are very, very cautious people who, quite literally, measure where belts hit and where feet fall before making any changes. I appreciate diligence in such matters and I can say with confidence that our children are properly and safely secured.