This is classic stuff. When kids get hurt they let you know, right away. Usually with volume. As they get older and we as parents get wiser, we wait a little bit to ensure the ailment is legit otherwise we’d be rushing off to the doctor every half hour. When the complaining has lasted long enough and is loud enough I’ll make the appointment and off we go. Inevitably, we’ll get to the doctor’s office and everything that was wrong has been magically fixed. This puts me in the wonderful position of looking like an overly stressed, suffocating hypochondriac who twitches at the sight of a runny nose. So it was, at a recent appointment that when our kindly doctor did ask why my son was seeing him, my boy turned to me and asked “Why did you bring me here?”. Sigh.