During the first few weeks of Pediatrics, my first rotation of third year, I emphasized that I was new, that it was my first day or week or month, that this was my first rotation. But now it’s Sunday night before beginning Surgery, my second rotation of third year, and somehow two months have flown by. Unfortunately I can’t rely on my new student excuse anymore. In the past two months, I’ve worked in a primary care pediatrics and teen clinic, where I’ve palpated lots of lymph nodes and talked about anxiety and confused ear wax with ear infections. I’ve spent a week abducting newborn babies’ hips, listening for the clunk of hip dysplasia, and advising their mothers on breastfeeding and filing their babies’ nails though I’ve never been a parent, much less so babysat. I’ve ridden my rickety red bike in scrubs or professional clothes and clogs or heels to the gorgeous glass twelve-story children’s hospital at 6 am for four weeks of learning about children’s hearts and the ins and outs of orbital cellulitis, diarrhea and dehydration, Kawasaki’s, cerebral palsy, and endocarditis. I’ve learned that twelve hours during the day can pass so quickly at the hospital. The night shift has taught me that time does not pass so quickly. I’ve learned that at the end of one month on the pediatric cardiology service, my voice doesn’t shake anymore and I make more eye contact, yet my face is warm and hands are clammy with nervousness during presentations to the patient, her family, and the rounding team of fifteen attendings, nurses, and students. So here I am, two months in.