I had a flashback of an incident involving one of my sons
when he was about four-years-old. I had developed a rather large hemorrhoid and
had a doctor appointment to get the problem checked. We had some other things
do while we were out so my doctor appointment was part of a family event for the
day.
Being a typical four-year-old, Tim was inquiring with a series
of questions as to the plan of the day.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to the doctor.”
Doctor appointments aren't always a pleasant experience in a
child’s memory so the next question was to be exspected.
“Why?”
I have always believed that when children ask a question
then you should answer honestly but within their ability to understand.
“I have to get my butt checked.”
That satisfied him. As long the doctor visit didn't involve
him and sharp instruments then he was perfectly okay with going to the doctor.
The boys were kept occupied, by their mother, with storybooks while I was in
the examining room.
After the exam I was at the reception counter dealing with
the ka-ching part of the doctor visit. Tim saw me and came running to greet me.
“Hey Dad!”
“Hey Buddy!”
“Did the doctor check your butt, Dad?”
I didn't blink. I was getting what was coming to me.
“Yep, he sure did.”
I looked at the receptionist with just a little bit of embarrassment.
She looked back with a little smile that I took to mean; it happens all of the time.
Don’t worry.
“Never any privacy, huh?” She spoke softly so that everyone
in the waiting area didn't hear her but it wasn't necessary. Tim had already
made an adequate disclosure.
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