Sam went with me to my doctor's appointment yesterday for tennis elbow (caused not from playing tennis, but from landscaping every square-inch of our yard). My arm is so sore that it doesn't even seem like pain anymore, it just feels like a constant tingle. Not the kind of sense and sensibility that I'm used to.
Samuel has become a daredevil. Usually, when he is risking life and limb, either skateboarding or riding his Razor down the middle of the street (yeah, just turned 3 and has been really good on it for months!) -- oh, and now jumping on the trampoline -- we tell him to please be careful so we don't have to go to the hospital.
He started blending the words "doctor" and "hospital," and came up with the term "hot doctor," asking us if that was where he'd end up if he didn't wear a helmet.
We were the first ones at the doctor's office yesterday. People began filing in, the nursing staff busily preparing for their day, and Sam said with almost an echo, "Are we seeing your hot doctor, Mommy?"
There were plenty of snickers and chuckles, and I gasped out an "Oh, honey, yes, we're here to see the doctor, not the hospital doctor..." but the damage had been done.
I'm sure the staff told my doctor, who actually is a pretty handsome man. : )
We are still recouping from the birthday bash. Matt did a terrific job getting the trampoline up (after... 6 hours? haha), and every single beautiful Spiderman cupcake disappeared. Matt bought me my second original painting from a local artist that I love, and even stopped at Sakura and picked up soft shell crab for me. What a man.
I start physical therapy for my arm next week. Ugh out.
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