AJ is so inspired by his upcoming birthday that he wrote his first ever poem:

My Birthday

Today is my birthday.

I want to play.

I want lots of toys.

I want to play with girls and boys.

My budding Shakespeare has been fascinated with rhymes of late and we�ve found ourselves playing lots of rhyming games. AJ, however, is not totally clear on what constitutes a word, and so our games get a little silly.

Mommy, what rhymes with cat?

I bet you know some words that rhyme with cat. What are they?

Bat. Flat, like in Flat Stanley. Hat. Fat, like in "Naughty Pussycat" (one of AJ's favorite songs). Zat.

Zat?

Yeah, Zat.

I�m not so sure about that one. Can you tell me what it means?

Zat. Can you help me?

I think you made that one up. What do you think it means?

Like this. (starts tickling me while yelling ZZZZZZAT!)

At the library today we found a book called Zat Cat! so AJ was so proud of himself for inventing a word that already existed, that he did a small victory lap around the row of shelves (in the case of the book, Zat is supposed to be French for That). Of course we had to check the book out. Although AJ isn�t actually much interested in the story -- the tale of a cat who inadvertently changes the fortune of a fashion designer -- he loves looking at the cat on the cover, who looks remarkably like one of ours. He then chases poor Mrs. Stein around the house pointing his finger menacingly at her yelling, �Zat Cat! Zat Cat! Zat Cat!

This despite the fact that the kind had a fever of nearly 103 yesterday afternoon. We kept him home from school today thinking he was probably still sick. Boy, were we wrong. They guy has been a holy terror today. I guess the antibiotics are working.

Yesterday�s trip to the pediatrician gave us our first visit with the male head of the practice, as our regular doctor, a female osteopath, doesn�t work on Mondays. I have to say that while I want to be open-minded about the gender of my pediatricians, I have not had especially positive experiences with male pediatricians. It�s strange, as most of my favorite doctors have been men � the great pediatrician I had growing up (even when we were living overseas, we would still have checkups with him whenever we were on home leave because we liked him so much), the wonderful G.P. I had while on the university�s insurance plan, the fantastic OB I had when I was pregnant with AJ. But the three male peds that we�ve ever seen have been incredibly weird. AJ�s regular doctor when we were still living downtown was a jerk, overly clinical in an I-know-everything-and-you-are-stupid-so-you-should-follow-me-blindly kind of way. I intentionally scheduled AJ�s appointments on his days off whenever I could so we didn�t have to see him very often. Dr. B, whom we saw yesterday, was much nicer, but he had that cloying way of talking to kids that seemed like over-compensation. When my mom once used that way of speaking on my 4-year-old cousin (who�s now 15), he turned to his mother and asked, �Mommy, why does she sound like Vanna White?� The thing that was really odd about Dr. B, though, was that he uses that voice with adults too. At one point during our appointment, he asked me �So how is that dissertation going?� in a tone of voice best left for words like �Cootchie cootchie coo!� I didn�t even realize he was talking to me at first. I felt like replying, �It�s such a nice little dissertation! Yes it is! Who's the good little doctor for asking?� And I might add that this man did his undergrad at the institution where I am currently a student, which is not exactly known for fostering this type of behavior. This mode of discourse must have come from medical school or years of practice.

My husband�s theory is that all men working with children feel like they�re in danger of being labeled a pedophile. He may have a point. It would be hard not to notice the suspicious looks the staff of AJ�s preschool give the occasional dads who show up to pick up their kids. Unfamiliar women barely get a second glance. Perhaps Dr. B. is just trying to create a greater comfort zone for the kids, which is great if it works. But AJ seemed to be as suspicious as I of Dr. B�s voice. Even with his cheeks flaming with fever, I swear he cocked his head and squinted at him sideways as if he didn�t know what to make of him. Later, as we were getting back in the car, he assessed the visit, �That was fun. But why does he sound like that?"

Some questions may best be left unanswered.

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