what should've been a long, taxing day last week -- doctor for aaron in the AM, whoosh down the mountain to the surface of the sun (aka phoenix), doctor for kelley in the PM, chugalug back up the mountain to the in-laws' to spread birthday wishes, return home long after dark -- instead turned into a long fit of giggles.
so we're sitting in the doctor's office, waiting for the conclusion of aaron's physical, when i discover the foot controls for the examination table. and move him up a little. and down a little. then back up some. then i tilt him to the left a little. then to the left as far as i think i can without him tumbling off the edge in his cute little backless sheet-dress. repeat to the right. repeat to the left. tee hee hee. then i move him up as far as the table will go until the whole thing starts putt-putt-putting and shaking wildly and smelling of hydraulic fluid. this, of course, is when the doctor arrives.
aaron loves this doctor, who is about a hundred years old and uses a gigantic turquoise and silver belt buckle to hold up his tommy hilfiger khakis. so we do not leave the office without an autographed copy of dr. carl shrader's: how to be your own doctor, which contains 100+ chapters on topics ranging from asthma to liver disease to whiplash. my favorite chapter (and obviously the most germane to my existence) explains what to do in the face of a biological warfare threat. it's an incredibly thorough manual, that i expect will get a lot of use in my marriage given its composition of equal parts hypochondriac and germophobe. thus, our whoosh down the mountain became an impromptu lesson from dr. shrader (ca. 1908) on masturbation and contraception. tee hee hee. the fact that i backed into a parked car on our way out the lot was almost completely lost on me.
at doctor's office #2, aaron asks the nurse if he can wash his hands. sure, she says, there's a bathroom around the corner. oh no, aaron wants to use this sink. why? because he likes the way that particular soap smells -- the kind he used to use when he was working with human cadavers in college biology. the nurse informs us that vionex contains a spermicide and foolishly leaves the room unattended. somehow, a bottle ended up in my purse. side note: although the bottle touts its pleasant fragrance and skin conditioners such that it is suitable for frequent use, it also cautions the user to "wash in a well-ventilated area."
a quick run into walmart for a birthday card is slowed considerably when aaron discovers a motorized cart abandoned in the parking lot. such a nice boy, he decides to run it inside to save the employees a trip. i continue walking at a regular pace and when i reach the door, turn around to see that aaron is still in the middle of the parking lot. my perfectly healthy husband is sitting on an electric shopping cart literally traveling at 1 foot per hour. and tooting the horn. we proceed to purchase a card that includes the phrase "please do not urinate on the dance floor." tee hee hee.
of course, every day is not so magical. but when magic is as simple as sneaking out in the middle of the night to take a photo of the police mobile photo enforcement van (fair is fair -- it was taking a picture of us) or tirelessly investigating the new bigfoot discovery or squishing onto the couch to become entrenched in a nat-geo special until one of us falls asleep ... i have great hope for the future.
