Charlies Chaotic Doctors Visit

eah yeah yeah, I know I need to post more.

Anyways. It was a Wednesday. The second Wednesday of July.

And Charlie… had a doctor’s appointment.

Boo and I frantically packed up the baby and rocketed out of the house Charlie in tow, powered by a full bottle of morning milk and the chaos energy only a one-year-old can wield. As we navigated the medical building’s labyrinth, I could sense it Charlie was amped. We braved the bureaucracy, the clipboard gauntlet, and entered the examination room like warriors entering a coliseum. Then the medical student arrived. Poor soul.

Student: Okay, uh can you place Charlie on the Examination table

“Okay.” I said.

But it was only then only then that I realized… this wasn’t going to end well.

You see, Charlie’s greatest strength isn’t his cuteness. It’s not his smile. No. It’s his unrelenting, insatiable desire to grab paper. And what do they place on every examination bench? A long roll of white paper.

I, a fool, had placed Charlie fully caffeinated with morning milk directly on top of his favorite toy. What happened next? Instant chaos.

With the precision of a drunken crane operator, Charlie snatched the paper and ripped a chunk off. Straight to the mouth. The medical student tried to intervene—rookie mistake. She had no idea what she was dealing with.

By the time she retrieved the soggy paper from his mouth, Charlie had tangled the rest of it around his legs like some kind of improvised net. Classic misdirection.

Then he struck.

He grabbed her stethoscope.

It was time to tag in.

I moved in for a full-body pickup—a torso surround combo—and shouted:

“CHARLIE!”

He coiled like a spring and countered with his signature move: the Drooling Hand. But I’ve seen this technique before. I was ready. I unleashed the Tickle Interrupt.

Charlie yelped with delight—but kept the hand primed and glistening like a weapon forged in a waterfall of apple juice.

“Okay, let’s measure him,” said the student, now visibly shaken.

She pulled out the baby height measuring tool.

I plopped him down. He lifted his head. Resistance was imminent.

“Oh no, you don’t…”

Charlie curled his legs like a rogue hedgehog. The student tried to uncurl them.

That’s when he made his move—he reached out with the drool-coated hand and slapped her touchscreen tablet. Tabs closed. Apps vanished. It was over.

While the student scrambled to recover, Charlie celebrated by entirely wrapping himself in the exam paper.

That’s when the artillery arrived.

The Doctor.

She entered like a general walking onto the battlefield. Clipboard in hand. Vaccines loaded. Years of experience behind her.

“So how much milk has he been drinking?” she asked.

“About 8 oz,” I replied.

“My goodness. That’s a lot.”

“That’s just in the morning. He’s been bulking up since the last time you met.”

“He is growing… at an exceptional rate.”

She looked at Charlie sitting triumphantly on a tattered battlefield of shredded paper—and shuddered. Her student had failed. Now it was up to her.

It was time for the vaccines.

We took our positions.

Northside: me locking down the arms.

Southside: the student grabbing a leg.

Center: the doctor with the oral vaccine locked and loaded.

Charlie countered instantly with a Wave of Drool, a liquid shield that diluted every drop of medicine. But the doctor… she waited. Patient. Focused. Watching.

Then, like the ocean’s tide, the drool receded. She struck.

Direct hit. Vaccine administered.

But two more remained. And they required needles.

She prepped the left leg. Charlie was distracted by the paper for now. But as the needle connected, he realized what was at stake.

And then his ultimate technique:

THE CRY.

A banshee’s screech. The room shook. The student flinched. I wavered.

But not the doctor. She was unphased.

She prepped the right leg. Charlie twisted. Wailed. Screeched. But the doctor was too fast. Both shots. Landed. Band-Aids deployed. Charlie was passed off to Boo for post-battle nursing.

I looked at the doctor, barely catching my breath.

“Doctor… we may have won today. But he’s only getting stronger. We barely made it out alive. You’re gonna need a new student.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry about my medical student. She served her purpose. When Charlie returns… I’ll be ready.”

And with that, the three of us Charlie, Boo, and I left the doctor’s office in ruins behind us.

The legend continues….Until the 12 month Check up