Tales of Life with a Girl on the Go

Reid woke up in the night and asked me where prisoners went to the bathroom. I explained that usually their cells have a toilet and sink in them and that there are shared showers, like at swimming. Reid next wanted to know what prisoners did for fun. I told her that I thought there were libraries and outside gym yards. I haven’t watched or read enough about prisons, apparently, since my details are sketchy. The last number of nights Reid has asked about “bad guys” and I suppose thinking about prisoners is a logical progression. But dreaming about them is more worrisome. Or at least odd.

I took Reid to her 5-year checkup this morning. According to the nurse, Reid’s blood pressure was good and she is
114 centimetres tall and weighs 20.2 kilograms – that’s about 44.8 inches and 44.4 pounds. I like to think of Reid as square, in Imperial units. Because I’m obsessed with such things, I can also tell you that Reid is in the 90th percentile for height and 75th percentile for weight.

The doctors checked Reid over, asked a bunch of questions and issued a number of reminders, like how she should drink 2% milk and stay off of backyard trampolines. The last category was the stumper – discipline. I decided to go with the truth: she listens to everyone but me and Ken. Just this morning, in fact, when I called her down to breakfast, Reid’s response was, “I can’t hear you.”

At the end, the doctor said that Reid was healthy and didn’t need to come back every year unless we had concerns. I’ll miss those annual “nothing to worry about visits”.

And note to self: Reid doesn’t know how to shake hands. It’s an important skill to teach her.

Reid woke at about 5:30 this morning, snuffling and coughing. She asked me for a Kleenex and then to turn on the humidifier. I gave her the Kleenex and when I climbed into bed to snuggle her as the humidifier started spitting out its steam, she said, “It’s not working!” That’s faith for you, eh?