A Day in Pediatrics

The next day at the hospital began with a scene that, although not surprising, was still uncomfortable for Lindsay. As we entered the main lobby, the same receptionists from the previous day greeted us with even wider smiles and an excessive level of deference. One of them, the youngest with modern glasses, held a tray with three steaming cappuccinos.

"Good morning, Miss Grove," said the receptionist, offering me one of the cups while looking at me with professional courtesy. "And good morning to you as well, Mr. Steele and Miss Hart."

Olivia, always quick to accept any form of attention, took her cappuccino with overflowing enthusiasm.

"Oh, this is great!" she exclaimed, taking an immediate sip. "I don't know what's better: the coffee or the service. Definitely, when I talk to Lindsay's parents about this place, I'll tell them how incredibly efficient and kind all of you are here. Maybe I'll even mention that you deserve a raise."

Lindsay visibly tensed at the mention of her parents, but the receptionists exchanged pleased glances. It was clear that Olivia had managed to win their sympathy with her exaggerated comment.

"Thank you, Miss Hart," one of the receptionists replied, clearly flattered. "We're very glad you're comfortable here."

Lindsay shot me an uncomfortable look, as if she wanted to say something but preferred to stay silent. I knew the situation made her nervous; she didn't want her last name to influence how she was treated, but it was inevitable given her family's reputation.

After a few more minutes of light conversation (mostly led by Olivia, who took the opportunity to ask about the staff's lunch schedules), we headed toward the pediatrics area. The atmosphere changed drastically as we entered this part of the hospital. The white, impersonal walls of the lobby were replaced by colorful murals featuring animals, superheroes, and fantastical landscapes. Toys were scattered in small waiting areas, and children's laughter echoed through the hallways.

We were greeted by a tall, elegant woman with an unmistakable British accent. She wore an impeccable white coat and had an ID badge that read "Dr. Eleanor Whitmore, Pediatrician."

"Welcome," she greeted us with a warm smile. "I'm Dr. Whitmore, and I'll be guiding you today through the pediatrics area. Do you have any questions before we begin?"

Olivia, always ready to take center stage, raised her hand as if we were in class.

"Yes, Doctor. First, what exactly does a pediatrician do? I mean, apart from curing colds and giving vaccines, of course."

Dr. Whitmore smiled patiently, accustomed to dealing with curious people.

"A pediatrician doesn't just treat physical illnesses but also emotional and developmental ones. We work with children from birth through adolescence, ensuring they grow up healthy both physically and mentally. It's a job that requires a lot of empathy and patience."

"Patience, huh…" Olivia murmured, looking at Lindsay with a mischievous smile. "That explains why some doctors seem like saints."

Lindsay rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but laugh.

Dr. Whitmore continued explaining the facilities as we walked through the hallways. She showed us the consultation rooms, a small playroom for the children, and an area where occupational therapies were conducted.

"And what happens if a child doesn't want to cooperate?" Olivia asked, leaning forward as if she were an investigative reporter. "For example, if they cry during a vaccine or refuse to take medication?"

"It's part of the job to convince them to trust us," Dr. Whitmore replied. "Sometimes we use games, distractions, or even small rewards. The key is to make them feel safe."

Olivia nodded solemnly.

"I see. So basically, you need to be half doctor, half magician."

Dr. Whitmore chuckled softly.

"Something like that, yes."

Finally, we arrived at a common playroom where several children were playing under the supervision of nurses and volunteers. Dr. Whitmore invited us to interact with them.

"Here you can see how we work with children in a less formal setting. Playing with them is a way to gain their trust and monitor their behavior."

Olivia immediately jumped into action, joining a group of children who were trying out an interactive game on a giant touchscreen. The game involved building virtual robots using technological parts, something specifically designed to stimulate creativity and fine motor skills. However, she quickly found herself in the middle of a dispute.

"That piece is mine!" shouted a young boy, trying to snatch a holographic piece from the game that Olivia had selected.

"No, I saw it first!" Olivia retorted, defending her position.

Lindsay and I observed the scene from a safe distance. Lindsay was openly laughing, enjoying the interaction between Olivia and the children. I, on the other hand, kept somewhat distant. I've never been particularly good with kids; their constant and noisy energy tends to overwhelm me.

"I think Olivia is losing this battle," Lindsay commented, pointing out how another child was trying to take another virtual piece from Olivia.

"Definitely," I responded, smiling despite myself. "It looks like they're teaching her a lesson about sharing."

Lindsay approached a little boy who was building a dinosaur-shaped robot on the screen. She crouched down to his level and began helping him, speaking in a soft and gentle voice. The boy looked at her curiously before smiling and continuing to play alongside her. It was clear that Lindsay had a natural gift for connecting with others, even the youngest ones.

For my part, I decided to stay near the door, observing from afar. A couple of kids tried to approach me, but my lack of enthusiasm must have been obvious because they soon lost interest and returned to the others.

After a few hours of play and observation, we met again with Dr. Whitmore, who congratulated us for our participation.

"You've done a great job today," she said with a smile. "Interacting with children can be complicated, but it's essential to our work."

Olivia, still somewhat annoyed by her defeat in the robot-building game, responded with a forced smile.

"Thank you, Doctor. I think I've discovered my true calling."

Lindsay and I exchanged an incredulous glance.

"Pediatrics?" Lindsay asked, raising an eyebrow. "Olivia, you were fighting with kids over holographic robot pieces."

"Exactly," Olivia responded, crossing her arms. "That proves I have the competitive spirit needed to survive in this field. Plus, I'm excellent at negotiating. I just need to work on my strategy."

"Or your patience," I added, unable to hold back a laugh.

Lindsay shook her head, though she was still smiling.

"Anyway, it was a fun day. I loved seeing how you interact with kids, even if you ended up losing."

"I didn't lose!" Olivia protested. "It was a strategic retreat."

As we returned to the lobby, Olivia continued to defend her supposed ability to work in pediatrics.

"Think about it: if I can handle a group of argumentative kids over a holographic robot, I can handle anything. I'd be the best pediatrician in the world."

"Sure, Olivia," I said sarcastically. "Just make sure not to start a tech war in the middle of a consultation."

Lindsay laughed, leaning on me.

"Maybe you should specialize in something quieter, like heart surgery."

"Heart surgery?" Olivia pretended to be horrified. "And leave behind my natural talent for robots and fights? No way."

We all laughed together, leaving behind the bustle of the pediatrics area.