She's much more aware than last time I was with her at the doctor's.
Mainly, she's aware that she does not want to be there.
"No here, no park here!" she told me as we turned into the parking lot.
"No in here! No in here" she continued as I tried to unbuckle her car seat. (She covered the buckles with her hands to try to keep me from unbuckling her. Then she hung on to the straps as I tried to remove her from the seat).
She lapsed into an apprehensive silence as we entered the building and then burst into tears when we approached the desk to check in.
There was a waiting period, which we filled with books, which was nice enough. But every time a nurse came out, she whipped her head around to see if this might be it.
"Daddy, mono in my car now" she told me, trying to get back to the car under the guise that it was mono (her stuffed monkey) who needed to go back.
"No, goose, we're not going back to the car now," I told her.
"No, my mono my car now!" she said.
Soon enough, our time had come. She wailed as I carried her back to be weighed (27 pounds as of today). The nurse and I tried to explain that there would be no shots this time, but she was having none of it.
Then we were left alone in the office. She clung to me like a barnacle on a rock.
"Would you like to sit on my lap?" I asked.
"Nyes." She crawled up and buried her face in my chest.
When the doctor finally came, she was so brave. After all that apprehension, she was so good about having her ears and throat looked at. The stethoscope didn't bother her at all.
Her spirits rose noticeably as we approached the exit. She got a Spiderman sticker (thwarting the receptionist's efforts to guide her to Hello Kitty), which she promptly pasted on her chest.
Then we went to play in the mall, feeling much better.
(She has a summer cold: fever and congestion/coughing, but not too contagious).
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