Take Care Now . . . Buh-Bye

We've all been there. You're on a tight timeline, trying to get a solitary errand done before lunchtime with the kids. You've got the diaper bag loaded, you're about to load the kids in the car and as you reach for the doorknob to the garage the phone rings behind you. Despite your haste, curiosity requires you to pick it up. Unfortunately for you it's not Publisher's Clearinghouse calling you with notification of your big check it is instead that notorious cling-on conversationalist who is so glad to have finally connected with you and wants to catch up for the past three years of missing time. Your window of opportunity has just been slammed shut. No errand for you, the Cling On has got you. If only there were a way to get out of such a dreaded social situation . . .

I think I may have found one.

A little background. It may surprise some you to learn that LeeAnn and I found ourselves at the pediatrician the other day. I know, right? Weird. Mary Poole had been pulling on her ears and had just been a little out of sorts. Since she had just finished up her antibiotic for a previous ear infection we were wondering if the infection had possibly hung around. So we got an appointment for her at 9:15. This time is cutting it close because naps are generally around 9:45, but we figured it would be a quick checkup: just a look in the ears, an assessment with a possible prescription, a quick drive home and then they'd be asleep by 10. The key would be wrapping up by 9:45 and we'd be golden. Sounded very feasible.

So we're there. The waiting room is pretty empty and we're feeling good. We wait about ten minutes and our name is called. Good things! It's 9:25 and we have 15 minutes to get seen by the doc and get on our way. In the room, it's another 10 minutes, but we're still doing great - it's only 9:35. We're a quick ear check away from medicine and naps. Dr. Knox, our regular doctor, knows the routine. He'll come in, we'll talk a bit about Jane (our friend and his relative), he'll ask what's wrong with MP, he'll check her ears, find the problem and shuttle us on our way. Just the right amount of bedside manner to make pediatrician's visits pretty enjoyable these days. We do like Dr. Knox.

But the problem is this: we didn't see Dr. Knox. Instead, we got another doctor - Dr. X - who shall remain nameless because on any other day she's probably a fantastic doctor due largely to the fact that Dr. X is in the running for being the most helpful, friendly and talkative doctor in all the New World.

Instead of our delightful, and brief, "How's your mom n' 'em" conversation, this very thorough doctor chose rather to give us the short history of ears, vaccinations, infections and the litany of all the children she'd seen come through the doors with any of the above. All without actually doing any inspection of the afflicted. It was sort of an extreme bedside manner that, under different circumstances might have been very truly exceptional. And you hate to be so ungrateful as to complain about a doctor actually spending time with you, helping you understand the craft and nature of disease diagnosis and treatment, but there's a time and a place for education and a very different time known as "the last ten minutes before an expected nap". In the latter case, haste does not, in fact, make waste.

But after the initial conversation, and I do mean conversation, we get to the inspection. It's 9:48, we're running past, but we're underway now. Just a quick check and . . . sure enough . . . two ear infections still. Bad news for Mary Poole, but hey, the good news is that we can get on our way. No need for more education now. We can leave.

Whoa there harried parent. Not so fast. Let's get some more history. While we want to be engaging, LeeAnn and I are reading the babies and we know that they're approaching their known melt-down moment. Meanwhile, this very obvious fact is somehow lost on the ebullient Dr. X. But it's ok, LeeAnn and I just continue scrambling to get them dressed and finally, we're done. All dressed and ready to roll. But still with the stories. On an on she went. Finally, somewhere between the abbreviated history of Joseph Salk's contributions to medicine and the state of the art in DNA repair treatments, Perritt starts to lose it. It's 9:55 and he's done.

And then as LeeAnn and I are exchanging disbelieving looks, we hear a very quiet: "Buh bye." It's Mary Poole. She's looking right at Dr. X as she says it. She's engaged Dr. X with a very serious stare and an even more serious message: "Buh bye" she says again. Deadpan. LA quickly pounces. "That's right, we're going bye-bye." followed by Perritt waving his hands bye-bye in support of the motion on the floor.

Mary Poole hammers it home with a couple of rapid fire "buh bye"s and a slightly patronizing smile. This stops Dr. X in her tracks. The stories have ended. "You've got a bright one there." Dr. X comments. And on the inside, I'm thinking - "Bright?, no ma'am. She's a freaking awkward social situational genius. Did you see the way she leveraged her cuteness to bail her parents out of that one?" Anyway, the appointment ends and we're on our way. Amazing. Thanks to her bailout, we made it home at little after ten and were spared a complete meltdown at the doctor's office.

So remember, parents of elder children - their inability to read social situations may be embarrassing sometimes. But occasionally, they are gems of comic timing and perfection.

Just Say No

LeeAnn does a great job keeping tabs on the all the toy and food recalls out in the news and wanted to be sure to alert you to one that surprised us both. Here's a snippet from the press release with all the relevant information:

"CDC Alert Issued for "Playgroup" Entertainment Venue"
Atlanta, GA (Baby Science Monitor) - The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is alerting parents and health care providers to new evidence indicating a marked increase in incidences of sickness in children exposed to the entertainment venue known as Playgroup.

Playgroup is a naturally occurring social event generally sponsored by at least two but as many as ten mothers (and rarely fathers - 5.3% incidence) during which time children converge on the playgroup "scene", engage in the communal sharing of toys and food, engage in boisterous play, occasionally listen to educational music and then quickly dissipate for evening rituals such as dinner and bath time. Infection of consenting playmates is often unintentional and wholly unexpected.

Playgroups are hotbeds of crud (gutteralus scratchicus), the sniffles (septus runnicus incessentae), foot and mouth (OMG nomen maximus malus) and the general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament (Malus Medicus). Detection of infected agents while at playgroup is often difficult, if not impossible. Many children are mere carriers of their own special blend of contagion, having already suffered through the disease they carry. In rare cases, parents bring visibly sick children to the setting but this is highly discouraged by the herd and said introductions of sick persons is widely frowned upon. Nevertheless, reports of sick children being admitted continue to rise. This is often accompanied by statements such as "I think he's fine now, I mean the vomiting stopped this morning." "She's on antibiotics." and "Yea, his nose is running but, I mean, it's not green." (LeeAnn's personal favorite)

Says Tobias Fünke, PhD, Director of CDC’s Center for Childhood Contagion Evaluation and Research, "As a researcher, the scheduled and predictable nature of these playgroups is both encouraging and discouraging to me. The cure for playgroup spread illnesses has been known since the beginning of time: abstinence. But many young parents want to experiment with their children's immune systems. They've heard that in order to be popular, you have to have playgroup with multiple partners, sometimes attending multiple playgroups in a single day. It's the classic case of science versus sociology - while the cure is clear, no amount of science will curb a person's natural desire to be liked and welcomed by his or her peers. Sadly, it's the children that pay the price - and increasingly, the parents too."

I found this article to be arresting because it really hit home, particularly because the entire Smith clan, even LeeAnn (Down goes Frazier! Down goes Frazier!) was brought to its collective knees last weekend (and continuing through the week) by a contagion of unknown origins. After reading this release, I am now suspecting playgroup to be a possible suspect and would urge our friends to be wary of these venues.

If you suspect someone of having playgroup, you are urged to contact the CDC as quickly as possible.