The other day I had to take my small, squishy child to the pediatrician for a physical. Actually, I had to take him in for a weird rash, but because he hadn’t had a physical in two years, they made me do the physical as well. Because, you know, I’ve got all kinds of time to spare. Let’s make me take extra and unnecessary steps.
Anywhoo – soon after we checked in they handed me a cup and asked me to have him give a urine sample. I walked with him down the hall to the bathroom and asked if he wanted me to hold it.** He glared at me.
“I’m NINE mom. I’M FINE.”
Okaaaay then, I’ll just wait here in the hall.
The minutes ticked by. And ticked. I could hear some rustling about.
*growly voice* “I’m FINE!”
More ticking happened. More rustling was heard. I looked like a weirdo hanging out in the hallway of the pediatrician’s office without a child.
Then I heard a very small, muffled voice from behind the door.
“Mommy? I’m having some technical difficulties.”
The door opened a crack.
“Do you want me to come in?”
The door opened slightly more. I assumed I’d been granted entry. I wedged myself in and the door was quickly slammed shut behind me. I surveyed the scene.
In front of me stood a small, sweaty, frustrated looking boy holding a rather crushed plastic cup with about 1/2″ of urine in it.
“I had a little trouble with the lid,” he confessed, thrusting the crumpled cup at me.
I looked around the room. The top of the toilet tank was splattered with puddles of urine, as well as the wall behind it. The counter and sink to the side had not escaped the carnage, nor had the floor. Paper towels, both damp and dry, were in the sink and all over the floor.
My son wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. Eyes full of tears he said, “I don’t think there’s enough pee now, and I’m all empty.”
He handed me what remained of the lid, and I tried to put it on the crushed cup. Not happening. I wrapped the entire shebang in a paper towel and carefully carried it out to the nurse, while he stood behind me, head hung low.
“He had some trouble with the lid,” I explained, carefully handing the cup to her.
Maybe next time he’ll let me hold it.
** This Post from my Vodka, Valium and Duct Tape Facebook page from April:
“My teen son is currently in the hospital due to diabetes complications. No worries, he will be fine. Probably going home tonight. But even in the hospital we are not safe from my…blondeness.
They gave him a plastic urine jug and asked him for a sample, then left. He pulled down his pants to get started.
Teen son: Here mom, hold this.
Me: Your PENIS!?!?
Teen son: *glare* NO!!!! The jug! *shakes his head at my stupidity*”