We have a chart in her room and every night she stays in her room earns her a sticker. A full chart earns her a toy (within reason) of her choice. She finally filled her chart and guess what she picked? A doctor's kit. I've been seriously ill every day since. I've had my blood pressure taken. On my wrist. I've been given shots, all over my legs, all over my arms, in my stomach and my head.
"This might hurt," she says and pokes me with her "syringe". "Did that hurt?"
So she pushes harder.
I think she might have to work on her bedside manner.
She's also picked up on concept of the waiting room. We wait. A lot. She makes me sit on the floor. And wait.
"Is the doctor in yet?" I'll ask.
"How about now?"
We read her dentist book over and over and over. The other day there was a show on about kids with cleft palates and the doctors that volunteer their time to fix them. She was mesmerized. She didn't move for the entire show. She'd freak out if a commercial came on.
"Are the doctors coming back? Are the doctors coming back??" she'd shriek. I'd assure her that it was just a commercial and she'd sit back down. Obsessed. Then awhile back, the news had a piece about some local doctors and again, she was hypnotized.
I have three blisters on my hands from scooping 6 months of dog poop out of the backyard and she keeps begging to look at them. She likes to poke them. Paper cuts are fascinating to her. My pretty little 3 year old with the big brown eyes likes to look at blood.
I figure she has a future in the medical field.