Forget Doctor Google, TV is where it's at

Where is Dr Ross when I need him?

Miss8 is apparently exceptionally unwell with a whole range of ailments.

She tells me so frequently.

Where I defer to Dr Google for my lounge room diagnosis, she chooses, instead, to flick through TV channels and declare her ailments based on whatever 15 second ad is spruiking a miracle cure at any given time.

We're talking everything from migraines to joint pain, muscle cramps to a need for patches to quit smoking.

Requests for posture support garments, to writing 'Osteo pills' on my shopping list.

We're talking dramatic claims of morning sickness and erectile dysfunction.

On the same day.

It's really hard to muster up a degree of motherly concern and sympathy when your 8 year old comes to you with a distraught look on her face, gravely advising you that she has morning sickness and 'rectine disco-function'.

I mean, ignoring the whole clearly she is watching far too much TV side of things, it is quite entertaining.

On any given day my darling little angel may be channeling her inner arthritic 80 year old who simply must have a walking frame and extra supplements for her poorly joints...

Or her inner professional body builder in desperate need of the latest and greatest protein muscle building powder to maximise her performance and muscle growth.

Miss5, desperate to be her older sister, has also jumped on the bandwagon.

She emerged from the toy room, all woe is me, clutching her stomach and claiming very very bad migraine - while pointing at her belly button.

Anything Miss8 claims to have, Miss5 claims to have but much much badderer.

Because everything is a competition with sisters....even faux medical conditions.

The only ads that hasn't caught Miss8's medical attention, are the bladder weakness ads for Depends.

When quizzed on this, Miss8 was all outrage and disgust while declaring only babies wear nappies...

I've tried to educate her on the whole 'boy who cried wolf' story.  How will I know when she is really truly ill?  When will I know to take her seriously?

At which point she asked for one of those panic alarm buzzers - the ones marketed at frail, elderly people who live alone and may not be able to get up if they take a fall and pop a hip.

Because she doesn't trust me to responsibly care for her various conditions.

Truth be told, all of this is simply further proof that she is my kid.

It is exactly like my own childhood ailment that #1Nana and #1Pop never ever took seriously -

Critically life threatening but completely false asthma attacks, triggered by weekly sports class and the annual grade school cross country race.  Complete with town ambulance.