5-year checkup

Noah had his 5-year checkup at the pediatrician's office today.  He was both chatty, and a little nervous at the same time.  The nurse came in and asked him to go with her to get weighed and measured.  He's officially 51 lbs. and 45 1/4 inches in height.  On both counts, he's in the 90-95th percentile for his age.  As the doctor later told us, "He hasn't slowed down a bit, and he's going to be bigger than anyone else in the household."

The nurse brought him back from being measured, and as she was leaving him to get the doctor she told him to get undressed down to his underwear.  Noah looked up and said, "Whaaaat?"  After a little cajoling, he complied, but like most of us who are asked to disrobe in the doctor's office, he got a little more self-conscious.

A huge plus, though, is that our pediatrician is a great doctor, and fantastic with children. He managed to overcome Noah's nerves and have a pretty interesting and humorous conversation with him while Mandy and I just watched and listened.

He asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, and Noah pointed at him and said "I want to be a doctor."  The doc told him we needed more doctors, especially to treat the elderly like him.

"Ok, you big goof, get up on the table."  He pushed the chair towards the tall table to give Noah something to get up on.  Noah told him, "I don't need a chair," and proceeded to hop up on the table like he did it all the time.  The doctor looked at us briefly, and then said, "Well I guess you don't need a chair.  You're like a gymnast."  Noah then told him he was going to gymnastics after the appointment, as if to confirm his diagnosis.  Noah told him how he lifted weights (and how much), and about running on the treadmill, and how his dad could lift a lot more weight than him (what a great kid!).

After a pretty thorough checkup, he proceeded to ask him a bunch of safety questions:
Doc: "What should you wear when you're riding in a car?"
Noah: "A seatbelt."
Doc: "What should you wear while you're riding a bike?"
Noah: "A helmet."
Doc: "What should you wear on your feet while you're riding?"
Noah: "Shoes."
Doc: "That's right, no flip-flops."

He asked a few more questions, then asked, "What should you do if one of your friends wants to show you a gun?"
Noah: "Ummm, let them?"

The doctor looked up at us briefly, while Mandy and I were both thinking, "Oh shit, did we just fail the parent test?"  The doctor asked him if he shouldn't get mommy and daddy instead, and tell them.  And just like that we both realized that we had gotten sucked into the "it can't happen to my kid" complacency that can happen when you're not thinking of EVERY. LITTLE. THING. that can happen.

Neither Mandy or I believe that you should exaggerate the risks of childhood dangers, and while we worry constantly about our kids like most parents do, we don't tend to dwell on the randomness that you can't control.  If someone pulls up to our child while he's 50 yards ahead of us, throws him in a van and speeds off, there's not much we can do to prepare for that.  The odds of us getting struck by lightning, multiple times, are better than that scenario.

But, there are times when we're reminded that it's prudent to educate him on the random dangers.   I grew up in a small town, where I didn't know anyone who didn't own guns.  From a very young age, I knew about gun safety.  You don't point a gun at anyone or anything unless you intend to pull the trigger, not even accidentally.  You treat a gun as if it's loaded, always.  There are plenty of 5-year olds who know this by now, but not mine, not in the city.  The doctor mentioned that 30% of households have guns in them, and boys are the most curious about guns.  There will come a time when I introduce him to guns, but until then, we've got some education to do.

We decided it was time for Noah's flu shot, and mine too.  Noah was brave at first, boasting that he wanted to get his before I got mine, but when the nurse got there, he hedged a bit and told me I should go first.  I got mine, and then pulled him up on my lap.  He was nervous, but a lot more brave than I was at his age, facing shots.  I never  like shots.

Towards the end of the exam, the doctor asked him to perform several physical coordination tests, including hopping on one foot.  Noah asked him, "Do you want to see how high I can jump on one foot?" and proceeded to hop a couple of feet into the air, landing on one foot.  The doctor was impressed.  Hell, I was impressed.

When he was summarizing our visit, the doctor told us, "It's pretty rare, but there are times when I see pre-pubescent children with muscular definition and Noah is one of them."  When he's standing, you can clearly see the huge muscles on his legs, from all the climbing, biking, running and jumping that he does.

I haven't been to these appointments in a few years, but it was Veteran's Day, so I had the day off and decided to come.  I'm glad I did.  It was both satisfying to see him becoming such a little man, and sad that he was growing up so quickly.  The only other checkups that stick in my memory is when we weighed Noah when he was just a little baby, and he cried at the top of his lungs when we gave him to the doctors or nurses.  He's not much different these days, either in performance or anxiety, except he doesn't cry.

Noah, checking his own blood pressure.