A/N: I come with another fic. This was an idea that I've been playing around with for a while, so I decided to type it up and post it. Thanks for all the reviews for my other fics. :) I loves!! Please R & R and no flames please. Enjoy!!
Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, I'm just borrowing.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yeah. I think I have everything."
"Tissues?"
"Check."
"Two juice boxes?"
"Check."
"Extra clean shirt?"
"Check."
"Earplugs?"
"Check."
"Yep. That's everything. Let's go."
"Why do we need all this stuff, Angel? It's just a quick trip to the doctor. We'll probably be there for thirty minutes, tops."
I smile at his delusions. "You weren't there the last time to learn the lessons that I learned. We're taking all this stuff."
"It might not be as bad this time. He's older now."
I snort. Yeah, right. I pick up the backpack full of emergency supplies, grab Jason by the hand, and head out to the car.
I can see the doubt on Collins' face while we head downstairs out of the apartment building. I wasn't exaggerating about needing all that stuff, though. I only hope that I didn't forget anything. Joanne was a big help when it came to tips to make your kid think the doctor's office is fun.
Lots of kids are scared of the doctor, I guess. A stranger with weird clothes and all sorts of scary instruments tries to poke and prod you and stick things in your orifices--and not in a good way. It's a wonder we're all not terrified of the doctor. I wish Collins could pass some of his cool vibe to our son. Jason has taken fear of the doctor to a whole new level...
Our first visit to the doctor
"Don't touch me! I don't wanna die!" Collins was trying to calm Jason down. I was apologizing to the doctor who was a very nice woman. She still is very nice, even though Jason was the cause of her first gray hairs.
"Jason, it's okay. Tell Daddy why you're scared." Both of us were a little terrified about what he might say. He had only been with us for a couple of months at that point and we didn't know if he'd been through any trauma or abuse. Luckily, Collins was an island of calm. He sat on the floor and pulled Jason onto his lap and talked to him.
A big sniff and a few fat tears running down his face completed the picture of the most miserable three year old in the world. "I don't wanna die," he sobbed.
"Oh, little man, you're not going to die. The doctor just has to check you and make sure everything is okay. She's really nice."
The nice doctor stood nearby, smiling and trying to look non-threatening. Jason wasn't buying the act.
"You said…" His lower lip was quivering.
Collins frowned. "What did I say?" Now another big sniff before the answer. I looked around for tissues, spied a box on the counter, and handed it to Collins.
Through the tissue which Collins was using to clean his face, we heard Jason's muffled voice say, "You said I was gonna get shot."
Collins looked at me and paled a little. I hate to say "I told you so" to anyone, but I did. I told him not to warn Jason about the vaccinations that far ahead of time. I wish he had listened to me.
We had the first of many long talks with Jason and convinced him that he wasn't about to be dragged in front of a firing squad. We also had to bribe him with stickers and toys. He cried a little after the vaccination, but a bear hug from Collins (who gives the best bear hugs) and a kiss from me and he was okay.
Three and a half years old--a visit to the dermatologist
"Don't touch my spots! I don't want you to take my spots!"
Harry Houdini was a hack compared to Jason. No matter where we go, Jason always avoids capture by finding a nook or cranny or piece of furniture that he manages to squeeze into or under or behind. It's a talent that I've learned to respect and fear.
Collins was on his hands and knees trying to convince Jason to come out--a position that he had become very familiar with. He didn't look half bad either. Let's just say that the man knows how to wear a pair of pants. While Collins was bargaining with our toddler under the table, the dermatologist was giving me a list of non-painful ways to get rid of warts. Damn. I had been hoping to get them frozen off or burned off or whatever was done to make them go away. The ones on his hands didn't bother me, but the two on his foot were rubbing against his shoe. So that's why we were sitting (or kneeling) in this nice man's office while Jason was hiding under the table, barefoot and crying.
"Collins." He looked back at me from where he was kneeling. "Let's just take him home. It isn't worth it." I'd get him a couple of pairs of sandals and call it a day.
Collins agreed and then tried to convince Jason that it was over. "Jay, do you want to go home?"
"Uh huh." We couldn't see his face, but his quivering voice was crystal clear.
"Then you have to come out of there."
"No."
"We promise that the doctor won't touch your spots. He won't even look at them."
"No."
"How can we go home if you don't come out?" Ah. Reason and logic.
"No!" Reason and logic? What was I thinking? He's three and a half. Reason and logic are like science fiction in his universe.
"Okay. Mommy and I are leaving. You can stay here with the doctor." Threats and subterfuge. I liked that technique. It might even have worked. Collins stood up and walked to the door. A head of tousled hair and a pair of teary eyes peeped out from around the table. When Collins stepped back towards him, the head disappeared again. I decided to take charge.
"Come on. Let's just go, Collins." I walked out the door, pushing Collins in front of me. We hadn't taken more than a few steps down the hall before a three foot high figure streaked past us.
I turned to go back to the exam room. "You catch him. I'll go get his shoes."
Five years old--a visit to the doctor because Jason had a sore throat
"C'mon sweetie. The doctor just needs to look in your mouth for a few seconds." I had been pleading with him for a while. If only Collins had been there. He was so much better at this than me. I couldn't even get Jason to take his hands off of his mouth. He was grabbing his own face so hard that there were red marks on his cheeks. At least he couldn't scream very loudly with his mouth covered. My ears were still ringing from before, when he first realized where we were.
"As soon as you open your mouth we can go." He looked at me, mouth still covered, eyes wide as saucers, and shook his head in refusal.
The nurse and the doctor had tried all kinds of tricks--all failures:
"Pant like a dog ,Jason, with your tongue hanging out."
"Look, Jason! Open your mouth just like Mommy."
"I think I saw a bunny rabbit run in your mouth, Jason. You better let him out."
After a while, everyone in the room was sweating and Jason was crying silent tears.
"Watcha doin' to the baby?" We all turned, surprised to see a little girl, about Jason's age, standing in the doorway. She was adorable--enormous brown eyes with eyelashes to die for, hair done up in dozens of braids decorated with barettes, and dimples in her smooth brown cheeks. She must have wandered in from the room next door. I crouched down to talk to her.
"What's your name?"
"Diana."
"Are you with your mommy or your daddy, Diana?"
She nodded. "Mommy's over there," she said pointing to the next exam room.
"Maybe we should bring you back to your mommy."
"Why you makin' the baby cry?"
"He's sick. We're trying to make him better."
Suddenly what I thought was a cute little girl became a diva with attitude to spare. One hand went to her hip and the other hand pointed a finger in my face and announced, "Don't touch the baby! No ice cream for you!"
"Diana! Come back over here!" A woman who looked as flustered as I felt came out of the exam room and dragged Diana away, apologizing while she walked.
I sighed and turned back to Jason. He'd been sitting on the table, open-mouthed, watching Mommy being humiliated by a pint-sized warrior-woman. As soon as he realized we were looking at him again, he clapped his hands back over his mouth.
Later--much later, we walked back home. He was dirty. I was tired. We were both starving. Collins came home and found me passed out on the couch, Jason sprawled on top of me. He complained that it took him almost thirty minutes to clean up all the cookie crumbs, globs of jell-o, and peach yogurt that we'd spilled on the couch. I thought it was only fair that he do his part for the cause.
Today--six years old--the dreaded yearly visit to the doctor
We arrive at the doctor's office. When we're close to the office door, I suggest to Collins that he carry Jason in.
"Why? He can walk." But he's been burned before when he's ignored my warnings, so he picks him up. Jason loves being carried around because the view is so much better from up above. We walk into the office lobby. Like I might have predicted, Jason transforms instantly from a happy six year old, to a screaming banshee with six arms and six legs, all of which he is using to try to climb over Collins. I fish the earplugs out of the duffel bag and put them in my ears.
We're walking back home after the visit to the doctor. Jason's happily walking with my hand in his right hand and an empty juice box in his left.. His clothes are spotless. The shirt that he'd been wearing when we left the apartment is in the backpack, covered in juice stains. Collins is on Jason's other side holding his hand, looking stunned..
"How did you know?"
I shrug my shoulders. How does any parent know? I reach into the trusty backpack and pull out the box of tissues.
"It's a good thing you brought the tissues," Collins tells me. "He's got juice all over his face."
"These are for me." I pull out a tissue, wipe the sweat from my brow. With a clean corner of the tissue, I dab at my eyes.
"What's wrong with your eyes, Mommy?" Our son catches me dabbing as he looks up at me.
Collins looks over at me, obviously concerned. "Yeah, Ang. What's wrong with your eyes? They look a little red."
"Nothing. Allergies." We stop walking for a minute.
"Are you sure? Because--" He looks at me a little closer before I turn my face away. "Are you crying?"
"Of course not."
"You are! But why?"
What's the use in denying it. I motion my eyes to Jason.
"Jason?" He looks up at the mention of his name. "There's nothing wrong with him. You're not upset because of the doctor's visit are you?"
I nod wordlessly.
"But it's over. It wasn't even that bad. And he doesn't need to see the doctor for another year...What? What is it? Why are you shaking your head?"
"He has to go back for a physical before summer camp."
"When?"
"In three months."
THE END
A/N: I hope you enjoyed this. One of the incidents is based on something I did when I was little, but I'm not telling which. I was thinking about making this into a series, but I wanted you guys' opinion on it. Just let me know in a review. BTW, I named Collins and Angel's son after my boyfriend...heehee :)