Tagged doctor

Doctor Toddler Has Been Suspended…So Has Hairdresser Toddler

The Toddler’s main professions continue to be medicine and hairdressing. Thankfully, she has mostly (well, sometimes) stopped trying to combine the two. (Still, Jeremy Hunt is unlikely to be happy when he finds out the toddler doctors have the spare time to be moonlighting as hairdressers. Who on earth is going to be available to deal with Michael Gove’s minor injuries?!)

The Toddler is doing a spot of hairdressing on Silly Daddy’s Cousin. The Toddler does appear to have moved on from requiring her clients to do her hair, but may still be slightly missing who the focus of the hairdressing experience is supposed to be.

Cousin is trying to teach The Toddler some hairdressing conventions, telling her: ‘You say, “Are you going anywhere nice on holiday?”‘
The Toddler nods: ‘Yes, I am.’ The Toddler is very pleased to see her clients showing an interest in her holidays and weekends.

The Toddler has finished Cousin’s hair cut. Cousin is happy with the results: ‘Thank you – I love it!’
The Toddler, of course, politely expresses that she is pleased her client is satisfied with her work. No, she doesn’t. She announces: ‘I’m going on my holiday!’ She marches off.

In doctoring news, it is the living room and Doctor Toddler is needed. The Toddler has some concerns about Silly Mummy, who was minding her own business.
‘I’m over here looking at your belly. It’s not very well. I’m going to have to be doctor. Maybe I can fix it.’
Silly Mummy hadn’t even noticed this belly problem, but is relieved that a toddler doctor is on hand to try to fix it (even if she does sound a bit grudging about having to be a doctor).

The Toddler just needs to transform herself into Doctor Toddler first. She picks up her doctor’s coat. She puts the coat down again, and starts taking off her top: ‘Need to take this off first.’ Despite Silly Mummy’s protests that doctor’s coats are traditionally worn over clothes, The Toddler is now removing her trousers: ‘Just need to take these off.’ The Toddler is now naked. She puts on her doctor’s coat, and gets distracted by how pretty she looks as a doctor, forgetting all about Silly Mummy’s recently discovered ailment: ‘Can I spin around in it?’ However, The Toddler quickly notices a problem with her new ‘dress’, which seems to be hanging a bit loosely, almost as though there should be clothes under it: ‘Think I’m a bit small for this dress.’

Doctor Toddler moves on from her sartorial concerns to deal with the medical issue at hand: ‘Right then, I need to cut your hair.’ No, The Toddler: wrong job! The Toddler is not listening: ‘Have to be careful with scissors. Very sharp.’ Very sensible, The Toddler, but Silly Mummy’s belly does not want a haircut!

‘Let me do something with medicine.’ The Toddler appears to be back on track as a doctor. She picks up some tweezers: ‘What is this?’ Silly Mummy informs her they are tweezers.
‘What me do with them?’ Silly Mummy explains that they can be used for removing splinters. The Toddler has other ideas. Careening immediately back off track, she takes a section of her own hair, grips it with the tweezers, and yells: ‘And snap!’

At this point, Doctor Hairdresser Toddler completely loses the plot. Addressing Silly Daddy, who is not even in the house, she declares: ‘Daddy, I’m just doing Mummy’s doctors. I’m just zapping The Baby’s hair. Where did I put Jesus?’

Presumably, she means tweezers, but who can be sure? Silly Mummy hides her belly. The Baby hides her hair. The services of all doctors, hairdressers and toddlers, whether brandishing tweezers or Jesus, are suspended pending a thorough investigation into what on earth is going on.

My Random Musings

Toddler of all Trades

The Toddler has many jobs. She is a Jack of all trades. It would be mean to say a master of none, but she wears her stethoscope around her waist – you can draw your own conclusions.

Some of The Toddler’s numerous professions have been documented before. She has been a Planning Officer. (All constructions erected without The Toddler’s express prior approval are issued with an immediate cease and desist (‘you mustn’t do that, you naughty crocodile’) order, before being summarily demolished. With a plastic knife.) Then there was The Toddler’s secretive, unspecified work with computers/Toot Toot safari tracks. Doctor Toddler has, of course, made a number of appearances (once as a hairdresser). When the ‘childrens’ need her, Toddler Poppins makes an appearance as a nanny (with broomstick/umbrella and doctor’s kit/carpet bag). And we cannot forget The Toddler’s brief stint as a despot.

However, The Toddler has further feathers to her bow. Here are just a few.

Mr Maker/Tony Hart/Blue Peter
The Toddler is playing with play doh. Silly Mummy has been showing her how to make snails. The Toddler has one snail Silly Mummy made and one snail she made. It is time for a rather odd tutorial. Very authoritatively, The Toddler announces: ‘Now, what we’re going to do is squish them. Like this.’ Of course we are. The Toddler now has two play doh snails joined together in the middle. Basically, she has conjoined play doh snail twins. To Silly Mummy’s disappointment, she does not proceed to take out conjoined play doh snail twins she made earlier and attach them to a fairy liquid bottle with double sided tape. She does, however, offer her encouragement to her Silly audience (who have not actually participated in the activity, due to not having any play doh snails because The Toddler has them all). Nonetheless, The Toddler wants Silly Mummy to believe in her ability to not make conjoined play doh snail twins. She enthusiastically informs Silly Mummy: ‘You did very well.’

Suffragette
The Toddler is an enthusiastic member of the Suffragette movement, thanks to Mary Poppins. Sister Suffragette is her current favourite song. The Toddler marches purposefully; laments that men, as a group, are rather stupid; and takes heart that Mrs Pankhurst has been clapped in irons again. The Toddler likes to sing her Suffragette song as her bedtime lullaby. She likes to affirm that she is not a meek and mild subservient, and will be fighting for her rights militantly from the comfort of her bed. Silly Mummy does not like to tell The Toddler that women gained suffrage some time ago. Still, perhaps The Toddler is fighting for votes for toddlers, who are, after all, a woefully neglected political resource.

Engineer
The Toddler has a musical book of Row Your Boat. The music button is starting to play up and often does not work. It is broken again. The Toddler grabs her broomstick: ‘I’m using broomstick to fix book!’ Just as Silly Mummy starts to explain that this will not work, The Toddler whacks the button with the handle of her broomstick and the book obediently starts playing its song. Silly Mummy stands corrected. Isambard Toddler Brunel knows exactly what she is doing.

Warlord
The Toddler is watching Nanny McPhee and The Big Bang. When the boys go to the War Office, The Toddler asks, ‘Where are they?’ Upon Silly Mummy explaining about the War Office, The Toddler nods wisely: ‘I want to do a war. I can do a war.’

Doctor (again)
After briefly changing career to be a hairdresser, Doctor Toddler has decided to give medicine another go. She seems to have had extra training, and has honed her diagnostic skills. She approaches Silly Mummy with her stethoscope: ‘Take a deep breath.’ The Toddler listens to Silly Mummy’s chest. Sometimes Toddler Doctors have to deliver upsetting news. The Toddler does not like to sugar coat it: ‘Hmm, think it’s a bit boring.’ Fortunately, there is a cure. The Toddler brings her syringe: ‘Make it better.’ Having removed the boring infection with a syringe, The Toddler decides she had better check it has not spread: ‘Can I check your ear?’ Inevitably, Doctor Toddler is now waving a reflex hammer. She takes hold of Silly Mummy’s leg, and asks, ‘Where’s your leg? I can’t see it!’ Silly Mummy decides she is going to have to ask to see The Toddler’s medical qualifications. Having located the elusive leg, The Toddler notices Silly Mummy has a bruise: ‘Oh no, bit bang.’ The Toddler whacks the bruise with the hammer: ‘Is that ok? Now, where’s temperature?’ Silly Mummy is really going to have to insist on seeing those qualifications. It should be noted that Doctor Toddler, in compliance with best practice, wears her stethoscope around her waist at all times.

Chef
Chef Toddler is playing with the remnants of her dinner. Like all good chefs, she knows that with a bit of attitude you can (over)charge diners for anything. She turns to Silly Daddy, points at her leftovers, and confidently declares, ‘That’s £5 for you.’ Of course, Silly Daddy is paying for Chef Toddler’s expertise and finesse in preparing her leftover mush: ‘I’ll just mix it round. Is that all right for you?’ The Toddler feels she has nailed being a gourmet chef. She has got the requisite temper tantrums down to a fine art, too.

Doctor Toddler Is Back and This Time She’s…a Hairdresser, Actually

doctor-894482_1920Doctor Toddler is back, ominously brandishing her stethoscope at an unsuspecting Silly Mummy: ‘Do a deep breath, Mummy.’ Silly Mummy takes a deep breath. The Toddler puts the stethoscope on Silly Mummy’s stomach, and announces: ‘Hmm, I think it’s a bit loose.’ A bit loose? Is it going to fall off??

The Toddler is not a very verbose doctor. She does not expand further on her diagnosis. She has moved on to treatment options: ‘Have a plaster.’ A plaster? Is that going to be enough? Can a stomach be held on with a plaster? The Toddler is rooting around in her supply of imaginary plasters: ‘No, that one’s children’s plaster.’ This is not reassuring. Silly Mummy’s loose stomach is going to be reattached with an imaginary plaster, and it isn’t even the right type of imaginary plaster. Silly Mummy does not want imaginary Peppa Pig holding her stomach on. The Toddler has got her imaginary plaster supply under control: ‘Have this one plaster.’

However, she is now doubting her original diagnosis. She suggests carrying out further tests, though they sound a lot like the original tests: ‘Hmm, think it’s deep breath, I think.’ She brandishes her stethoscope.

In further dodgy diagnosis news, Silly Daddy’s knee is declared to have a cold.

It seems Doctor Toddler offers some unusual services at her practice. Armed with the surgical scissors and tweezers (and briefly, confusingly, the reflex hammer) from her doctor’s kit, Doctor Toddler leads a double life as a hairdresser.

The Toddler’s hairdressing technique appears mostly quite sound. A little aggressive, perhaps. The Toddler does not believe in waiting for people to request a haircut before attacking them with her scissors: ‘I’m just cutting your hair.’ And she does do things in a slightly odd order. Halfway through the haircut she announces: ‘I’m just putting your apron on.’ Still, she’s efficient. After just a few seconds of relentless hair pulling, she announces: ‘Finished! Do you want to turn around now?’

Somewhat unconventionally, it is apparently customary for clients/patients at The Toddler’s hair salon/doctor’s surgery to be required to cut The Toddler’s hair following their own hair cut/medical examination. A confused Silly Mummy obliges, asking The Toddler: ‘What hairstyle would you like?’
The Toddler has given much thought to exactly what hairstyle she would like to sport, and is able to confidently and helpfully answer: ‘That one.’ Well, it is a classic. A ‘that one’ never goes out of style, does it?

It seems to Silly Mummy that Doctor Toddler is actually very clever. Clearly concerned about the controversial Toddler Doctor Contract* and the future of her medical career, she has decided she needs a back up vocation. Sensibly, she has found one that she does not need new equipment for (though she may be forced to let the reflex hammer go).

(*The Toddler feels that if ever a person was both the ‘big bad wolf’ and a ‘naughty crocodile’, it is Jeremy Hunt.)

 
 
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Trust Me, I’m a Toddler

Grandad is visiting. The Toddler needs to take a look at his leg. Thankfully, The Toddler is a doctor today. Goodness knows what we would have done if this had been one of the days when she is an imaginary painter and decorator.

Anyway, Grandad’s leg is playing up. Literally. It keeps waving around in a most indecorous manner. The Toddler is not impressed. This is not the proper way for a leg to behave. She tells the leg, in no uncertain terms, to: ‘Calm down!’

Doctor Toddler feels further investigations are needed: ‘Get doctor kit. Need to fix you, Grandad.’ The Toddler rushes off and returns with her doctor’s kit. She is now ready to take care of Grandad. She explains what she will be doing to Grandad: ‘Me check you.’

Out comes the stethoscope. The Toddler puts it on and holds the end to Grandad’s chest: ‘Breathe out.’ (Breathe out? Where has she learnt this? Has Silly Mummy tuned out the episode of Peppa Pig where Peppa goes to medical school: ‘Oh, Peppa! You can’t use defibrillators in a muddy puddle! Ho ho ho!’)
Grandad asks, ‘Am I okay?’
The Toddler is reassuring: ‘Yeah.’

The examination is not yet over. The Toddler is now brandishing an otoscope and prodding at Grandad’s ear. Grandad enquires, ‘How’re my ears?’
The Toddler has further good news: ‘It’s good!’

Grandad is not The Toddler’s only patient. The Toddler approaches Silly Mummy, waving medical instruments: ‘And you!’ Apparently, Silly Mummy is also due for a health check. Silly Mummy is a little nervous: The Toddler’s Peppa Pig and George figures have already undergone preliminary tests. Silly Mummy fears the results were not good: Peppa and George have been bundled into the doctor’s kit. That can’t be a good sign.

The Toddler has now checked Grandad’s reflexes with her little hammer, and threatened to ‘do something’ with the tweezers. Her examination of Grandad is complete, and The Toddler appears to have identified the problem. She points at Grandad: ‘This is not funny!’ It’s just good to finally have a diagnosis.