Little Ears Are Listening

No, I'm not promoting Coca Cola (even though it's local here in Atlanta), but can you tell me why my children's doctor is? I took one of my kids to the doctor yesterday and we were put in examining room #15 (if you can believe there are so many), which is a room we haven't been in before.

My daughter noticed it immediately. Coca Cola wallpaper. I was literally speechless, not just because I am an advocate for commercial-free environments for our children but because, for goodness sake, this is our doctor's office. And it's not even like it was advertising Coca Cola's water or juice products. One 20-ounce bottle of soda has 17 teaspoons of sugar, 250 calories and caffeine. Consuming soda puts children at risk for obesity, osteoporosis, tooth decay, and more. Between 16 and 33 percent of American children are obese, and the obesity rate of children is increasing worldwide.

I said to the nurse, "Coca Cola?!" and she said, "Oh, this is our teen room," as if that then makes it understandable. The average teenage boy drinks 700 cans of soda a year. The average teenage girl drinks 500. Is passively encouraging the use of soda the message you expect your child to receive in a doctor's office?

So there I was, with my child. Little ears are listening, I tell myself when the kids are with me. Now is where the rubber meets the road, I whispered inside. Silence equals support. (And, for the record, I said something years ago when a different doctor handed me a tip sheet for my newborn that included sponsor messages from baby formula companies).

"Will you please switch us to a different room?" I asked. "This one is not appropriate."

She immediately agreed and took us down the hall. I couldn't help myself as she opened the other door. "Does this one have Chick-fil-A?" I quipped. (For those who don't know, that is a fast-food restaurant that has somehow managed to work its way into every single school I know as a sponsor). Okay, I made her laugh. Does that count toward Show Your Smile Week?

"Please tell the doctor your thoughts on this," she said nicely as she left us.

As we waited for the doctor, we talked about the wallpaper and why it didn't really seem like a good idea in a doctor's office. I told my daughter that I was going to say something to the doctor, that if I sat there silently, it was as good as if I agreed, that change would never happen if people are silent.

So, after the exam, I said, "I must mention how concerned I am about the Coca Cola wallpaper in room 15." I went on a bit, trying not to get so soap-boxy, and he turned to me and said, "You know what? You are absolutely right. I am going to talk to the office manager about that."

And I asked the question that I've started asking lately when these types of things happen, because I am so surprised that I even have to have these conversations.

"Am I the only parent from whom you've heard this?" I asked.

He thought a moment and then answered, "Yes, you are."

I believe change does not necessarily happen in big strides. It happens in a series of little steps that add up, both negatively (Coca Cola wallpaper at the doctor's office, fast food sponsorships at school) and positively (one parent, one doctor, one conversation).

Yet there is one thing I know for sure. If there is something in which I believe, and I see something that I think is wrong, silence will get me nowhere. Especially when little ears are listening.