Mitchell's New Assistant

It seems Mitchell has recruited himself a new assistant in his medical practice. I call him "Crazy Dr. Jack." He is almost as obsessed with "tools" as his mentor, Mitchell. I find the two of them rummaging through my kitchen and bathroom drawers together constantly, poking each other with fingernail clippers, "cutting" each other's bellies open with spatulas and whisks, wrapping each other in toilet paper, using Mitchell's doctor kit to fix all manner of ailments on each other and the rest of the family.

Mitchell has some interesting and unusual tools sometimes, but at least he uses them gently and somewhat appropriately. Crazy Dr. Jack, however, has yet to learn a gentle touch. He bashes me on the head with a hair brush, sticks a toy srynge in my unsuspecting ear or eye, insists on my stomach being bare, then jamming the stethoscope into my belly button.

In the end though, I almost always get rewarded for my participation in their medical practice: Dr Mitchell gives me a "special toy" for being so good, and Crazy Dr Jack lays his blankie over my tummy, lays his head down, and gives me a big snuggle and squeeze.

I love my personal physicians...

A Drink For Doctors

Since I am not a big fan of pop, I never buy it for my family.  The only thing that ever gets drunk out of a can in this house is beer, so when Mitchell was given and allowed to drink a can of Dr Pepper of his own at Grandpa and Grandpa's house, he was certain he was getting away with something sneaky and drinking a beverage not intended for children.

He really relished that can.  He took little sips out of it, carrying it all over the house with him, hiding it from Jack's frantic attempts to get his little hands on it, and sighing with pleasure with each sip, saying things like, "This sure is delicious!" and "I sure love this drink!" and "We should get these at home!"  

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and he finally finished his pop.  Not too long later, I heard him ask Matt for another, saying, "Dad, I want another man drink - the one for doctors!"

I Think I Need A Second Opinion

I did something to my back last weekend, leaving me with quite a soreness that hurts most when I pick up my giant baby or when I get jumped on unexpectedly by my 5 year old.  While picking up Jack cannot be avoided, I do try to keep the "jumping on mom" by the other boys down to a minimum right now.  Last night, I got a sneak attack though.  Ben had clearly forgotten and jumped from his bed over to Mitchell's bed where I was laying.  Ouch.  After the groans on my part and plenty of apologizing and hugging on his part, the boys decided it was time to play doctor on me.  (I love this game because it requires me to lay down.)  Dr. Ben and Dr. Mitchell got out all their "tools" (it is always so funny to see what Mitchell picks as his tools) and got to work on me.  

After plenty of cutting, poking, gluing, patting, and screwing, along with the appropriate sound effects for each, Dr. Ben diagnosed me: I just need some new bones!  Dr. Mitchell's diagnosis was a bit more...puzzling.  He was certain my legs needed to be cut off and replaced.  I tried to tell him my legs felt just fine, but there was no stopping him!  So while Ben took out all my back bones, replaced them, then glued my back back together, Mitchell busily sawed my legs off at the knees, then replaced them again.  After a high five between my two doctors, they told me I was all better and shouldn't have a sore back anymore!

Well, after all this special treatment from my personal docs, the recent pain from being jumped on had faded, so I guess (although I think I could have kept my original legs) their surgery worked to some degree!