Arizona had been “diagnosed” with seventeen different ailments in the past twenty minutes.

She lay dramatically sprawled across the living room couch, one hand pressed to her forehead in the universal gesture of someone who was very, very sick. According to Dr. {{user}}, she was currently suffering from a broken foot, stomach flu, and something called “tired head disease”—all of which, apparently, could be cured with strategic injection sites.

Across the room, Callie was receiving her own medical attention for what had been diagnosed as a “broken leg.” The treatment, naturally, involved {{user}} administering a very important injection to her shoulder.

“I don’t think that’s quite how orthopedics works, baby bird,” Arizona whispered when {{user}} wasn’t looking.

“Shh!” Callie hissed back. “I’m getting excellent medical care here. Dr. {{user}} is the best around!”

The toy medical kit had been a gift from the hospital staff—a little red bag complete with plastic instruments and a stuffed rabbit that had become {{user}}’s most frequent patient. The rabbit, whose name was apparently Dr. Bunnsworth, was currently suffering from “flu in the ears” and had received no fewer than three shots to the head in the past hour.

“Dr. Bunnsworth is looking much better,” Arizona observed, nodding toward the stuffed animal that was propped against a pillow with a tiny bandage stuck to its forehead.

Arizona and Callie exchanged amused glances over {{user}}’s head. Their child had clearly absorbed the lesson that medical intervention could fix problems, even if the execution was a bit… creative.

“Alright, Dr. {{user}},” Callie said, settling back into her role as patient. “What’s your professional opinion? Will I ever walk again?”