Here’s a little story for you

a mature adult
should not laugh at the poop jokes
but I can't help it

Today, the nurse and I took Ike-a-saurus to his doctor's appointment. This involves great feats of strength now that we have The Monstrosity to cart the little dude around in.

Monstrosity  

12 pounds of baby and about 100 pounds of crap. You think toting around crap for a baby is crazy, try adding all the extra trach stuff to the mix. Even if I had four arms (which essentially, I do, with the nurse, or my husband, along for the party) it still wouldn't be enough.

Anyway, we managed to weave our way through traffic, remember the handicap placard (so conflicted over that – do we really need a handicap placard? Really? And yet… so.much.stuff.), and keep Ike-a-saurus reasonably happy in the car. We got to the doctor's office and suddenly I realized I had to get The Monstrosity into an elevator.

Tricky.

We had to crush an innocent bystander, but we managed to make it to our floor in record time.

Once in the doctor's office, I bumper car'd my way into the back and into an exam room. It was a tight fit, but we did it.

Then, the doctor arrived.

The Monstrosity was pushed as far to back of the exam room as it could go, but with the table, a little desk, three other chairs and two other people, it was a close fit for all of us. The doctor was carrying Ike's chart and a laptop and he was trying to finagle a little rolling chair out from under the desk so that he could perch on it at the end of the exam table.

That was when he said it.

"Excuse me," said the doctor. "I just need to squeeze out a little stool."

Time.

Stood.

Still.

In slow motion, his eyes connected with mine. He knew what he had just said. I knew what he had just said. Neither one of us were willing to gain eye contact with the nurse because we knew that she knew what he had just said.

So there we stood. Eyes locked. "squeeze out a little stool" floating in the air above us.

I did not say, "Lucky for you there's a big pile of magazines right there!"
I did not say, "Do you need some privacy?"
I did not say, "That's totally what Ike would say right now if he could talk! Jinx!"

Instead, I smiled – the briefest beginnings of a complete guffaw -  and the spell was broken. Eye contact severed, the doc grabbed the rolly chair and began asking questions. It took all of my strength to not bust out laughing. And by "laughing" I mean full on snorting and heehawing.

Alas, I had to be a grown up. Boo.

But at least now we know the Monstrosity is good at two things: 1) fitting into tight spots 2) causing them as well.

A big win for the stroller folks. A big win.

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9 thoughts on “Here’s a little story for you

  1. ha!!!!! my husband and i had a big laugh at the stool story this morning…
    that is surely a big pushchair! does it make it easier? i just slap emily’s suction machine, ambubag, footpump and other bits on the back of a regular pushchair (stroller).

    Like

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