A Letter to Our Pediatrician

Dear Doctor,
I would like to thank you for allowing my boys the time to explore your very small exam room so thoroughly yesterday afternoon.  Although they truly enjoyed their Extreme Exam Room Makeover session, I feel I must warn you that you might have difficulty in locating your stethoscope in the near future.  In an effort to simplify your search, I believe it might be stuffed somewhere inside the table, along with the foot stirrups I was so creatively able to explain as foot-checkers.
 Also, while the 6” long Q-tips were very interesting to look at, I must admit, they are quite difficult to remove from 4-year-old ear and nasal cavities, so I would like to suggest that maybe such items be placed out of the reach of little people.
I would also like to offer my thanks for the very lengthy and informative details you were able to give regarding their newly acquired prescriptions.  I’m not sure whether you noticed the small child that was head-diving from the exam table, but that is the one that has ATTENTION.SPAN.ISSUES.  While I tried to maintain an interested look on my face while you were explaining the new meds, I was really just thinking, “Good God, man, hand over the prescriptions already so I can peel my child off the ceiling!”
This is also a fine opportunity to mention that the boys did not care for their new medication.  Although substantial in size, the meds seemed more appropriate for, oh say…a 4-year-old HORSE.  Those things are huge!  I have seen smaller hard-boiled eggs, for God’s sake, yet you sent me off to the pharmacy to pick up this prescription like the oblivious and foolhardy parent that I apparently am.
After thinking about how to administer the time-capsule-sized tablets (and discarding the idea of suppository-style dosing), I deduced that I should crush them and mix them with peanut butter, as this is the preferred method for one of the boys already.  And that worked quite handily for one.  However, you’ll remember that there were two boys in your office yesterday.
It’s the second boy I would like to talk about for a moment.  As you may (or clearly, may not) recall, he has a horrific gag reflex.  While I am not complaining, I would like to let you know that when mixing this pill, peanut butter, and a previously-consumed Happy Meal, the result is a train-load full of kid barf and the need for ultra-absorbent mop heads.
I would like to suggest that in the future you prescribe the boys’ medication in the form of a Reese’s peanut butter egg, preferably with no aftertaste or pesky medicine chunks to taint its perfect consistency.  The gagger would much prefer medication that is, in fact, nothing remotely similar to actual medication.
In conclusion, I hope we can schedule another meeting in the near future, and next time I will plan on bringing nap cots for the boys and a small dose of Valium for myself.
Yours truly,
Medicated Mama

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