The director and the doctor

This morning Greta declared that she wanted to play doctor. Before I could respond, she ran to retrieve her doctor's kit, returned, and delivered the following monologue to set the scene: "Lincoln is the doctor. You are the patient. You are going to have a baby, and I am the baby."

Much to her brother's delight, she placed the stethoscope around his neck and said, "You're the doctor, Linc. Check mom out." Then she curled up on my lap in a ball, since I was supposed to be pregnant.


Lincoln listened to my heart, poked me repeatedly in the eyes, and slapped around the blood pressure cuff. I spared Greta the reality of my pregnancies (admission to the hospital for both of them at 28 weeks) and instead translated his babbling to mean that I was healthy, and that it was time for the baby to be born and get checked out by the doctor. Greta rolled off my lap on the rug and let Lincoln examine her, too. Amid giggles and pokes, she said she was fine, too.
Then Greta declared it was time to play chase, and we (Lincoln and I) were "it." What wonderful playmates they are...fingers crossed they continue to be!