I called the Hotty Pediatrician yesterday to
casually mention that I was totally hot for his skinny, geeky bod discuss whether Mia should or should not get a flu shot considering that she is a) mildly allergic to eggs and b) likely to be licking an infant come February. When he didn't call back by 5:00 I figured, eh, whatever. It wasn't exactly an urgent issue, today would be fine. And then the phone rang at 7:30 last night, and it was the Hotty Pediatrician. Calling me back. From home. That's hott, right?
So we chatted for a while (about absolutely nothing other than that whole flu shot thing, but he was a heck of a lot more personable than he usually is on the phone, so it was very nearly like chatting) (and by "more personable" I mean "didn't sound like he would prefer to be performing an un-anesthetized appendectomy on himself with a rusty fondue fork" but hey, I'm not good on the phone either) and it came out that he had checked Mia's chart that afternoon to look up the exact level of her egg-allergic-ness. Now sure, you people probably just think that he didn't call in the afternoon after the chart-checking because he had a very busy day what with the appointments and the hottiness and the adjusting the Dora stickers on his stethoscope and all and was just being conscientious by calling me on his own time rather than making me wait until morning. But me? I totally think he saved it so he could call me from home and, like, savor the experience of discussing anaphylaxis with me.
Sadly, Chris came home basically right as the phone rang, so I had to be totally subtle with my flirting. I'll just have to hope he knew what I really meant by "EpiPen."