The gizzards of poultry are a popular food throughout the world. Chicken gizzards are popular food item in Potterville, Michigan, where a Gizzard Festival is held every year in June...pickled turkey gizzards are a traditional food in some parts of the Midwestern United States. In the Southern United States, the gizzard is typically served fried, sometimes eaten with hot or honey mustard, or added to crawfish boil along with crawfish sauce. In Chicago, gizzard is battered, deep fried and served with fries and sauce. -Wikipedia
Today in the Life of Madeline
I took Madeline into her well visit check today at the doctor's office. She was very excited about the special time we were to spend together (kinda sad that her "mommy time" involves a doctor's appointment) and the only glitch was she absolutely refused to pee in a cup....Seriously, you try getting a 3 year old princess to pee in a cup. If it would've been Aidan he'd have been like, "Woo hoo, really? Do I have to be right up close or can I aim for it from a distance?!"
Then there is Madeline. I told her she would have to pee in the cup and her response was, giggle giggle, "NO." After several attempts (bribery included), I gave up and we walked back to the exam room where she did a great job answering the doctors questions while drinking some water.
"How old are you?" the Doctor asked. Madeline held up 3 fingers and said, "This many."
"What's your favorite color?"
"Red and Pink."
"Oh, those are nice colors," The Doctor said. "Do you eat good food for your mommy?"
"What's your favorite food?" the Doc asked.
"Do you eat junk food?" (Uh, hello, didn't you just hear? She eats granola bars and contrary to popular belief, they are basically junk.)
No answer from Madeline.
"Do you know what junk food is?" the Doc asked. Madeline shook her head no.
"I guess if you don't know what junk food is, you probably don't eat much of it," the Doctor said. (She obviously got her medical degree from a lesser known institution where they use fake kids as lab rats. I mean, Madeline also doesn't know what oxygen is but I am fairly certain she breathes it...)
"Do you know your phone number?" the Doc asked met by a blank stare from Madeline. I explained we had moved several times over the last few years so we hadn't worked on it yet.
"Maybe you should get her a cell phone," the Doc suggested. (You have to be kidding me. She's 3! But then, this is the OC.)
Apparently clueless that a mom wouldn't put sweat pants on a kid in 90 degree weather, the Doc then asked, "Do you dress yourself in the morning?" (Yeah, and right before Elevensies and lunch and at least twice during quiet time and then once before dinner and....)
"Yes, but sometimes mom has to button this button right back here," Madeline said, turning to show where there would be a button had it been the ONE shirt she has with a button in the back. The doctor looked at me confused. Madeline continued, "The button isn't on this shoyt; it is on another shoyt at home but mom has to do it because I can't reach it. And sometimes she has to button the button on my nightgown, too...."
The doctor looked up at me and asked, "Does she speak in complete sentences that you can understand the majority of the time?" Uh, hello? Were you not listening to the last 2 minutes of Madeline's treatise on dressing?
"Yes," I said. "Since she was about 18 months."
The Doc turned back to Madeline. "Do you brush your teeth?" she asked.
"Yes," Madeline said.
"When do you brush your teeth?" the Doctor continued.
Madeline answered, matter-of-factly, "On the weekends."
Hee hee hee....that's just funny. I was going to explain that we are on a very strict toothbrush budget so we try to conserve them, use them only after eatin' our fried gizzards and on special occasions, like before our yearly doctor's visit, but decided I would pass up the opportunity.
After playing 20 questions with us, the doc went on to do the rest of the exam, making sure to note all the bruises Madeline had accumulated in the last few days. When she got to the third bruise, which was suspiciously identical to the shape of the dental impression of a five-year-old boy, I about asked her if she would count mine too, to see who was winning, but figured I would save the court system from another "smart-ass-mom" case.
At the end of the appointment, the nurse came in and asked us to try again with the cup...
Princesses don't pee in cups.
And although I half thought about peeing in it myself just to satisfy them, we came back out with the cup, still empty.
"Well, that's not a problem," the nurse explained. "I'll just give you this take home cup and you can bring it back when it's half full."
Again, funny. But, we took the cup and can I just say that Madeline has an INSANE bladder?! She had not peed since almost 3 hours before that appointment, and because she refused to pee in the cup, we ran some errands, came home, ate lunch, she took a nap and it wasn't until she awoke, screaming that she had to go to the bathroom that she FINALLY was able to pee in the cup....7 hours since she had gone last! And it STILL took her about ten minutes to relax enough to pee in the darn cup. (But, that could be because Lily was standing there, screaming at her to get off her toilet while pulling at Madeline's clothes and hair....never fear, we disciplined her with some pickled turkey gizzards....)