My Fuzzy Wuzzy

Even typing that makes me snort. Goodness.

And let me say right here, right now:  if I get sick with a cold, I know exactly when I got it.

At 9:16 this morning. From A Child. Oh. My. God.

So I went to see my ob/gyn this morning. This is what I hate about the whole Melanoma Thang. Even though it's over and done with and everything is fine, I still have to Watch Stuff. So whereas, in the past, I would just let things go until it became obvious I needed to have them checked, now I figure I'll just get it over with right away. Just to be safe.

Sigh. Whatever. At least I like my doctor and his fabulous nurse/office manager/saint, Lori.

So I go in this morning, which is not my choice because I Do Not Do Mornings. I tell everyone this, and I stick to it:  I work in the mornings. I do not make appointments. I do not leave the house.

Except sometimes. And it was either go this morning or not until next week. This afternoon is full of meetings and interviews, and Mendez doesn't work on Fridays because he doesn't have to, and he's somewhere else on Tuesdays and Thursdays. So I rush around and go, consoling myself by taking the iPhone and the daily calendar and figuring I can get at least something done while I'm waiting. Except I forgot the cats. He now has his Grandcats living in the office--the cats of his son. (He also showed me a dog whom he refers to as his brother:  it's the dog of his parents. See why I love this guy?)

I'd forgotten that Dulcinea and Googly and the other two (we haven't really met yet, so I don't know them) live there now, so I had to talk to them, of course. And then the woman who was ahead of me got called into the exam room, and she told her son to Wait Right There. A kid. In the room with me.

Yikes. I SO do not do kids. I always just ignore them, and they usually avoid me. It works out great for everyone.

But this kid didn't get the message that I was ignoring him, and he goes, "Hi. Hi! HI!" So I have to say, "Hi," back, right? And then he shows me his trucks, which make cool noises. Too bad for me that I'm a sucker for cool toys, so I start talking to him about the trucks. He's a really cute kid with his hair gelled up to a point. He is, he tells me, five. And he asks if he can sit by me, which is pretty astounding, as kids usually look at me and either 1) cry or 2) puke. He did neither. He talked about the back page of the magazines, the ones where you see how many odd things you can pick out in the picture. And he had a runny nose and got a tissue and then asked me to take him to find a trashcan to throw it away. He found a monster there and had to show me that, too (an art deco print on the wall--she did look kind of creepy, actually).

And then Dr. Mendez came out and sat down and was showing me the iPhone photos of his family (not his human family--he skimmed over those, knowing I'm not going to be ooohing and ahhhing over the grandbabies) and the new members (the newest Granddogs are a rescue dog and the puppy they got to keep her calm), and then I had to show him photos of Clarice. My New Best Friend wanted to see, and he remarked that she really was a fuzzy wuzzy. This is true. He wanted to know what other photos I had and helpfully skimmed through them, demonstrating 1) my total foolishness in the face of a smart, cute, charming five-year-old and 2) his familiarity with the iPhone. I played the video of the California Honeydrops for him, and he immediately began bopping and dancing on the carpet.

At about 9:16 was when he sneezed.

And then his mom came out of the exam room, and he ran up to her and pointed to me and said, "SHE HAS A FUZZY WUZZY!"

Imagine, if you will, the hilarity that ensued. I am so glad I had the photo of Clarice to show her.