My own little Doc McStuffins

Sometimes I can’t believe what a shrewd little thinker I have on my hands. Some things just can’t be taught.

My son, a three year old going on 30, has always been my cautious child. Childproofing was lost on him. What would possess a reasonable human being to put anything other than the occasional piece of chocolate into his mouth, anyway?

My daughter, on the other hand, has quite a varied appetite at the tender age of nine months. A renegade crawler who scours the floor for munchies, she enjoys lettuce, pieces of plastic bag, paper, leaves and stems, dirt, and pretty much any object she can find. No, a nine month old should not eat ANY of those things. She has taught me what a terrible job I have done childproofing.

So it is commonplace for me to bend down to inspect her mouth for unseemly items. The other day, not quite up to the task myself, I asked little L to look into his sister R’s mouth. Not expecting anything to happen, I continued finishing up my household task and was about to check it out myself, when,

“Mommy! I need a puff.”

“What, honey? A puff?”

“Yes, mommy, a puff,” and he held out his hand.

So I retrieved a crunchy oat puff from the pantry and placed it into his fingers. Gingerly he held it near Sister’s face.

“Open your mouth, Sister,” he instructed. “Open wide!” As the puff neared R’s lips I laughed to myself as I saw her jaw drop open with Laki peering expectantly into her mouth.

“Nothing in there, Mommy!” he exclaimed triumphantly.

“Go ahead, L,” I said, “you can give her the puff now.”

And he happily fed her. And she happily ate. Methinks I’ve found a cheap and viable alternative to tongue depressors.