He Is Boy

I might be terrified of my son’s pediatrician.

Let me back up a moment. My son has had Kaiser Permanente the last few years, after I found his previous insurance company to be somewhat lacking. Lacking as in, “We don’t cover emergency room visits. At all. We just never told you that. Bye!”

So, I switched over to a different evil corporation and haven’t really had many problems since. He’s gone for shots, check-ups, and a few other assorted maladies. His pediatrician is a rather stern Russian woman of indeterminate age. I’d venture that she’s anywhere between the ages of 35 and 60. I might mean that as a compliment.

The thing is, she is the living embodiment of the stereotype of a stern Russian woman. I’m pretty sure she wants to hit me. And then when she’s done with me, she’s going to sell my son off to a labor camp somewhere east of Siberia.

A few weeks ago, my son had an accident with a stove while staying with his mother. When we took him to the stern Russian woman, her response to the burn was succinct:

“He will have scar, but is okay. He is boy.”

My son is only three, so he obvious has issues with anyone checking out the burn in any way. When she went to look at the burn, he started crying. Her response was succinct, and comical:

“Hey. Boy. Don’t cry. Do you like the Bat Man?” (Emphasize the pause between “Bat” and “Man” and you’ll hear the comedy.)

Of course, he likes the “Bat Man” and accepted the Batman sticker she offered with a few sniffles.

I’m sure this woman loves children, or a the very least likes them a little bit. I mean, otherwise she wouldn’t have gone into pediatric medicine, right? Nonetheless, she scares me a little.

As for my son, he’s no more or less scared of her than he is of anyone else touching the burn on his arm. And, regardless, he’ll be fine. He is boy.