As I am laying in bed trying to keep dinner down, little Dr. Wyatt is conducting a thorough examination of my head. Though the jostling is defeating the whole purpose of lying down I do not have the heart to shoo him away.
So I say, “Dr. Wyatt, is there anything you could do about these wrinkles on my brow?”
He peers at them a moment then replies, “you mean these stripes? Sorry, no. But you are gorgeous.”
He then proceeds to give me 14 sloppy kisses.
The kindest doctor I have ever had.