93/365

20140403-203436.jpgA portrait of my daughter every day in 2014

It’s 5pm and I just thought about the fact that tomorrow morning she goes to Cardiology. I’ve been telling her all week long about her echo on Friday. She’s been watching video’s of other kids getting echo’s. She knows that she gets to watch The Fantastic Mr Fox. At least I hope she knows. I’ve been trying to prepare her, as best you can prepare a toddler. She hasn’t had a full echo in a year. I have a plan. I know things may not go according to plan, as they rarely do with a child in the picture. But I am hoping, praying that she cooperates enough for them to at least see the damn valve. Last time they didn’t even get that. When we go in, germs be damned, I’m going to let her play with the toys in the waiting room. We’re going to show her the fish tank and the giant cow. We’re going to let her walk back to the echo suite herself. All the while telling her it’s time to watch the movie. Then she and I will sit on the bed, turn on the movie and pray that she doesn’t burst into tears the second the tech touches her. I’m bringing cheese. I’m considering buying chocolate. Or cookies. Or anything to bribe her with. I’ve told her every day she gets to pick out a new stuffed animal after her echo. I know she understands me. I just hope it’s enough. So dear reader, if you think of this sweet girl tomorrow morning, then please send her “hold still damn it!” vibes.

I freaking love it when she helps carrying in the bags from the store.

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