Lab, Part 1

Hubby and I took Ben to Kaiser the other day to get some Lab work done. He needed several tubes of blood taken from his arm, and we also needed to pick up a "stool sample" kit (oh, the joys of parenthood). When we arrived at the Lab department, Hubby sat in a seat with Ben in the waiting area while I walked up to the counter to register.

I handed the woman behind the desk Ben's card and said, "My son needs to get some blood work done... his doctor already sent the orders through." She clicked something on the keyboard and then looked at me with a straight face and said, "He'll need his ID."

I kind of chuckled to myself, and while restraining the urge to laugh I responded, "Well he doesn't have one!" She looked at me, raised her eyebrows, glanced over at Hubby and Ben, and then looked back at me and continued: "Well, he'll need an ID to get his labs done."

Is she serious? I looked at her carefully but her expression was totally deadpan. It threw me off for a moment and I thought, Wow! Am I totally out of it? Is this the new thing parents are doing now? Getting ID cards for their babies? I cautiously said, "He doesn't have an ID..." but she didn't remove her stare from my face so I quickly explained, "He's only two!" ...and then I laughed because this conversation seemed completely ridiculous to me!

She looked quizzically over at Hubby and Ben again, and then glanced at her computer and said, "Well it says here he's 32, so he should have one! He'll need one to be admitted." Good grief! I mean, granted I've been a little tired all week due to a nasty cold, but do I really look old enough to have birthed a 32-year-old? Sheesh, I'm not even 30 myself! That'll be the last time I skimp out in the makeup department--sick or not!

It was then that she corrected herself and said, "Oh. I get it, 32 months. He's only two-and-a-half." Still deadpan... Was she for real? She then handed me a bag with a cup and gave me some instructions on removing the stool from his diaper. She told me to line the diaper with a plastic bag first, and then take my sample from there. Apparently this woman does not have children of her own, nor does she know of any kid under the age of thirty. Try explaining to a two-year-old that we need to line his butt with plastic to catch his poop. Yeah right! He'd hold it in for days if I did that! I mentally rolled my eyes and nodded along.

She gestured toward a door, "Okay you can go on in." After another mental eye roll I signaled to Hubby that it was time to face the music.