The kindergarten class from Maple Elementary was the highlight of Arizona’s week.

She stood in the pediatric wing’s main hallway, watching as twenty-three five-year-olds filed through the hospital entrance in the most adorable procession she’d ever seen. They were all holding hands in a long chain, their teacher at the front and parent volunteers spaced throughout the line, tiny backpacks bouncing with each step.

Arizona had volunteered to lead the hospital tour the moment the request came through the administration office. Field trips were one of her favorite parts of community outreach—a chance to demystify hospitals for kids, show them that doctors and nurses were helpers, not scary people in white coats.

“Welcome to Seattle Grace Hospital!” she called out cheerfully as the group approached, crouching down to their eye level. “I’m Dr. Robbins, but you can all call me Dr. Arizona. How many of you have been to a hospital before?”

A few tentative hands went up while others looked around with wide, curious eyes. One little boy was still clutching his classmate’s hand even though they’d stopped walking, clearly taking the “stay together” instruction very seriously.

“Well, today we’re going to see some really cool things,” Arizona continued, her enthusiasm genuine. “We’ll visit the place where babies are born, see some of the special machines that help doctors take care of people, and maybe even meet some of the therapy dogs that visit our patients.”

The mention of dogs immediately perked up several kids, and Arizona grinned.

“But first, we need to learn the most important hospital rule—we use our inside voices because there are people here who are trying to feel better, and quiet helps them rest. Can everyone show me their best inside voice?”

The chorus of whispered “yes” responses was absolutely precious.