Last month, I took Jillian to the doctor for her 18-month checkup. We were a bit late on this because Freddie had changed jobs and insurance and I wanted to make sure everything was effective before I started scheduling stuff.

The routine at the doctor’s office is always the same: they call Jillian’s name and show us to an examining room. The nurse asks me to get Jillian undressed to her diaper (and socks – it was chilly) and then bring her out to the scale to get weighed.

After weigh-in, the nurse says “the doctor will be right in, leave Jillian in the diaper (and socks).” This is a huge lie, since it takes at least 10 minutes for the doctor to appear. With a nuclear-powered toddler, 10 minutes might as well be six years.

Since Jilly refuses to be held when she can walk around and destroy stuff, I set her down in just her diaper (and socks) to wreck the room as best she could before the doctor showed up. Finally, after thirteen “No, Jillian – do not pull the paper off of the exam table” and twenty-seven rounds of “LA LA LA LA LA!” the doctor opened the door.

As she did so, a small, flesh-colored blur sped past her and headed out to the [full] waiting room.

“Hi! Hewwo!” said the blur, waving. “Ahhhm! Hed! Haaaar. Leg! Bellleeee. Butt! Pee-pee!” Oh, great! An anatomy lesson!

I scooped up Her Nakedness and headed back to the exam room.

“I was going to ask if she had a lot of words yet but she speaks very well for her age,” the doctor said. “And she doesn’t seem to be shy.”

“Not shy at all. I’m just glad I was able to stop her before she started pointing out everyone else’s pee-pee as well as her own.”

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