Like Mother Like Son

Moose is accident prone.  In just the past four weeks ALONE he will have seen:

1.  A dermatologist.
2.  An MD.
3.  An allergist.
4.  An ENT.
5.  A dentist.
6.  A partridge in a pear tree.

OK, fine, he hasn't seen his allergist in the past four weeks, but it made the list seem more impressive.  I was thinking of how many times this ankle biter has been to a medical professional, and I'm thinkin' it's gotta be more than your average toddler.  Here are all the ailments I can remember from his scant life span:

1.  Severe eczema which led to:
2.  Severe food allergies which led to:
3.  An allergic reaction to an inhaler treatment which caused:
4.  An ambulance ride and overnight at a hospital.
5.  That cumbersome, pesky fainting habit that tends to freak people out.
6.  Stitches in his head when he lost a fight with a kitchen chair.
7.  Several more allergy related appointments.
8.  A bout with a skin virus that has now been treated with a peculiar serum they extract from a Blister Beetle which is exactly what it sounds like.  Four treatments and it's still not gone.
9.  A punctured eardrum from putting Q-tips in his ears in an effort to look like Shrek and then sailing off the couch only to land on his ogre ear.

I'm tempted to be irritated by his penchant for scars, but then I remembered I've had a few myself:

1.  Falling out of a tree one time (cuz you know there was more than once) I remember wildly  making a mental note that the way cartoon characters fall out of trees and smack each and every branch on the way down, bouncing to and fro and cracking branches off, is quite painfully accurate.
2.  Horse injury #1 was leading a stubborn horse by his lead rope when he bucked, diabolically wrapping the lead around my head and then taking off running, dragging me behind by my neck.  Left a rather nice bruise in the shape of a rope.  That one made my normally calm mother pale.
3.  Horse injury #2 was getting kicked in the ankle by the horse in front of me while riding my own.
4.  I have pencil lead in my leg from a pal stabbing me.
5.  I have a dent in my forehead from apparently falling off a deck as a toddler.
6.  I have a scar by my eye from belatedly remembering I am not a acrobat as I flipped myself off a handrail onto the cement below as a 10 year old. 
7.  Broken toe from horse injury #2 that was rebroken years later when I dropped a drawer on it.
8.  Cracked tailbone from slipping on ice.
9.  Two C-sections that caused an abnormal amount of scar tissue that caused complications for birth #3.
10.  Numerous swollen and twisted ankles.
11.  A winter from H, E, double hockey sticks, that resulted in five bouts of strep throat from Oct-Jan that ended in a specialist office, who cackled with evil mirth and said he loved a good challenge like me.
12.  A visit with an OBGYN who had the same reaction when I went to her with problems from #9 that are too icky for me to write about.

Next, Moose has his first dentist appointment.  I am dreading it.  I am not looking forward to the part where they sternly inform me, his parent and legal guardian, that he is riddled with cavities and what have I been doing, feeding him a bottle with koolaid in it every night before bed?  Then I have to weakly explain that I may or may not have broken him of the coconut milk in a sippy cup taken to bed a wee bit later than I had planned to, and that I may or may not brush his teeth daily.  Basically confirming to them that I AM THE WORST MOTHER OF ALL FLIPPIN' TIME ON THE FACE OF PLANET EARTH.   This cannot-be-denied-knowledge is embarrassing because a lot of time I can fake being a better mother than I actually am.  For example, if I am out and about at a friend's house and they serve hot dogs I OF COURSE boil it in purified water in a steel pot, slice it lengthwise to reduce the risk of choking, then slice it the other way into tiny little half moon pieces, then blow on it, then serve it with organic ketchup.  If I am home however, I toss a cold hot dog across the kitchen at him, whole.  Or I might nuke it.  Which will surely cause him cancer if the hot dog itself doesn't beat the microwave to the punch.

Aw geez Louise, there are a lot of doctor appointments in cancer.