Doctor, doctor

Monday was a holiday, which meant no preschool.

Ack!

I woke up very, very tired. The day stretched out before me, rainy and long.

How do I keep this 4-year old boy entertained with a minimum of effort?

We started off the day with some coloring, and then moved on to puzzles. But after an hour, CJ was ready for something else.

I was ready to lie down.

And then genius struck.

“I know! Let’s play doctor! I’ll lie on the bed, and you can take care of me.”

I am BRILLIANT.

CJ’s eyes lit up at my excellent idea. I snuggled into my cozy bed, while he ran to his room to pull out his doctor box.

He came in, very serious, and began peering in my ears with one of his medical devices. He listened to my heart beat. He banged on my knee with his little plastic hammer.

“What seems to be the matter, miss?” he asked me.

“Oh doctor, my arm is hurting terribly!” I moaned.

And so he whacked the offending arm, as hard as he could, with the little plastic hammer. “Is that better?”

Where did this boy learn to care for the wounded?

I assured him that my arm was healed (just don’t whack it again, please!)

“Now what’s the matter?” he asked me.

“My eye!” I howled, “I think there’s something in my eye!”

He pulled out his looking-tool and peeked inside my eye. Then he reached for his plastic hammer. His arm raised…

“NOOOO!!!” I shouted, throwing up my arm at the last possible minute to protect my eyeball from certain demise. “You can’t whack mommy on her EYE!”

CJ sighed a deep, weary sigh. “Mo-om,” he admonished me, “I’m only going to whack it a little.”

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