When Not to Call the Pediatrician

Dear Diary,

This conversation unfolded recently as a perfect example of when not to call the pediatrician’s office.  A year or two ago, I may have picked up the phone and dialed the doctor immediately. But now, I’m a much more cool and collected mama.

My Mother: Something’s wrong with Caitlynn’s hand. It looks like she was burned or bruised.

Me: Let me see. That looks like marker. She was digging in the crayon box this morning.

My Father: It looks like a blood clot.

Me: It’s probably marker. I’ll wash it off.

My Mother: I tried to wash it off.

Me: Well, I’ll use some soap.

My Mom: It is raised. It probably hurts. Caitlynn, does it hurt?

Caitlynn holding up her hand: Ouch! Hurts! Hurts!

My Dad: It’s a blood clot.

Me: Oh my goodness. I’ll wash her hand.

My Dad: You’re eating your breakfast.

Me: But I can’t eat in peace!

Me After Washing Her Hand: Oh no! Call an ambulance! She needs to be rushed to the hospital of hypochondriacs!

Moral of the story: Grandparents care so much more for their grandchildren than their own kids. Growing up, my parents wouldn’t have suggested going to the hospital.  They  used to tell me, drink some water and go to bed. You’ll feel better in the morning.