Check Up Version 3.0

You know how going to the doctor sucks in Iowa? Well, it isn't any better in Omaha. Apparently, they have shots here too.

I became initially suspicious when the nurse came in wearing an eyepatch. Anytime you go anywhere and they've hired a pirate, you know it can't end well. But she just asked Daddy a bunch of questions about me (and didn't even ask if I had scurvy), then took me for the weigh-in...

19 lbs., 6 oz. (96th percentile)
26 3/4 in. tall (80th percentile)
17.3 in. head (90th percentile)

She then left, leaving me cautiously optimistic about this appointment.

Then my new doctor came in and she was really nice. She asked Daddy some more questions about me (she must not read the blog) and did some poking and prodding, but nothing major. Apparently I am still in perfect health.

The doctor then left, and we just hung around the room for a while. I kept looking at Daddy with the "Let's git while the gittin's good" look, but he wouldn't budge.

Then Nurse Blackbeard returned, and she brought some L'il Buckaroo stickers.

They laid me on the table and I just held onto Daddy's fingers while they did their business. Three shots, two legs - and they didn't even have the decency to do the first two at the same time. I tried to be tough, but you know what they say about shots.

Everybody cries.