My seven-year-old has been congested and coughing for a few days now. This morning when he complained that his chest hurt, I called to see if I could get him in to see the doctor. Surprisingly, we were able to get an appointment right away.

A few hours later, we were in the examination room. The doctor, a dainty woman with China doll features and a slight New York accent, listened to my son’s chest.

“Okay, deep breaths… Have you been coughing vigorously?”

“Yeah.”

… More listening and breathing…

She reached for the handheld light attached to the wall by a coiled black cord and stretched it towards her patient. On tippy-toes, she peered into his little left ear.

“Wow. If you’ll let me get that chunk of wax out of there, I think you’ll be impressed with what you see.”

He agreed and she went to work.

Using long black slender pliers, she probed carefully at the tiny canal. Once, twice, and then moving slower the third time, she slid an edamame-sized sable ball from its hiding place.

She placed it in a paper towel and handed it to my son.

He beamed – radiant like a new mother.

“Can I keep it?”

“Well, I certainly don’t want it.”

He took his eyes off of it for an instant to flash a gap-toothed smile at me.

“Mrs. Menard is gonna freak at Show-and-Tell on Friday.”