Green Mountain Pediatrics

12/06/2025

I interviewed a pediatric ER doctor about the single biggest threat to children that most parents never discuss.

Dr. Bronwen Carroll sees the aftermath of child sexual abuse in the emergency room. But it wasn't until a predator was arrested at her own daughter's school that she realized how unprepared most families are.

Sexual assault is the most common serious trauma to happen to children, affecting at least 10 percent of kids before age 18. Yet, unlike drowning or car seat safety, we give parents almost no guidance on prevention.

Dr. Carroll explained that predators operate like a football team with a single play. They need three things: access, compliance, and secrecy. If we teach kids to block that play, we can stop them.

Her advice starts with one simple rule: Adults do not ask children to keep secrets.

A secret is different from a surprise (like a birthday gift). A secret is meant to be hidden forever. If an adult, whether a coach, a relative, or a teacher, asks a child to keep a secret, that is an immediate red flag.

She also advises parents to "scaffold" conversations early. Start with bodily autonomy at bath time for toddlers. Talk about online safety and po*******hy before they stumble upon it, so they know they can come to you without shame.

Most importantly, she stressed that predators target kids they perceive as having low parental involvement. Simply showing up, introducing yourself to the coach, and being a visible presence in your child's life is a powerful deterrent.

🎙️ Listen to "The childhood risk we never talk about" on The Podcast by KevinMD.

(Link in the comments ⬇️)

12/05/2025

12/03/2025

🚀 TEACH Me ADHD is coming back in January — and the Wait List is NOW OPEN!

If you have a child with ADHD, this is the perfect way to start the new year with more confidence, connection, and calm at home. In addition to my class, Dr. Bauer and Kim will also be leading small groups of just 5–12 families.

✨ Spots fill quickly every time. Families on the wait list get first chance to register BEFORE we open to the public, so sign up for the Wait List NOW - there's no commitment!

TEACH Me ADHD is an interactive 8-week course on Zoom where kids AND parents learn together.

You’ll join us weekly to explore:
🧠 Understanding ADHD
💛 Emotional regulation
📅 Executive functioning skills

Between sessions, families complete fun Deeds & Missions. These are hands-on activities that reinforce skills in such an enjoyable way that kids often don’t even realize they're learning!

🎁 PLUS! Parents get TWO BONUS coaching sessions (75 minutes each), led by an ADHD-certified coach. Can’t attend live? No worries — you’ll receive the recording within 48 hours.

💻 All classes take place virtually in our Zoom Room.
👨‍👩‍👧 Perfect for families looking to build skills together.

👉 Join the wait list today to secure your early registration spot! https://www.letstalkkidshealth.org/teach-me-adhd-wait-list

11/30/2025

11/03/2025

On November 1, 2007, Charlie Horn, a 2-year-old Kansas City boy, was killed when a 30" dresser he attempted to climb fell on him. Brett and Jenny Horn, Charlie's parents, turned their tragedy into a mission to educate others.

The Horns began a movement to reduce in-home accidents through increased public awareness and education.

Following a decade-plus of hard work and determination, the construction of the nation's first safety demonstration house dedicated to child safety was completed in 2020.

Now, our mission to reduce childhood accidents in and around the home has gone virtual with “Charlie’s Safety House,” a free, interactive app that educates parents and caregivers.

Download “Charlie’s Safety House” today at charlieshouse.org, and stay safe ♥️

10/27/2025

The vaccines recommended by the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) for use in all children do not interfere with each other and, as needed, can be safely given together during a single visit. The immunization schedule is created to ensure they are as effective as possible to protect your child fr...

09/30/2025

Worth sharing - teach, support, build mental muscle - don’t do everything for your child.

Two days after a stranger snapped a photo at our farm stand, the internet decided I was a lazy father. They didn’t see what I refused to fix.

I’m Earl, fourth-generation on 110 acres of beans, hay, and prayer. My hands are split from cold hose water; my boots remember every fence post. On Saturdays we sell eggs, sweet corn, and hoop-house tomatoes at the county market. My daughter Maddy—twelve, sharp as a dart—wears a homemade name tag that says “Farm CFO.” She made it with a label maker and a smile I didn’t earn.

That photo everyone argued about? Maddy was counting change while I stacked crates. I guess it looked like I’d dumped the work on a kid. The comments rolled in like hail: child labor, bad parenting, call CPS. Folks who’ve never shoveled a stall have the strongest opinions about shovels.

Truth is, I could do it all faster. I could also carry her backpack into adulthood and break both our backs.

The real storm hit a week later. Feed prices have been mean this year—diesel’s a thief, drought’s a liar—and we pinch pennies until they squeal. Maddy had handled our order at the co-op because she’s been learning margins and protein ratios for her 4-H project. I heard her on the phone—steady voice, little accountant. When the pallet arrived, I was in the far pasture patching fence. She signed for it.

By Monday morning, one of the bottle calves was scouring. I checked the bags and felt my stomach drop. Wrong blend—too hot on the protein for what we’re raising. A cheap mistake turned expensive quick.

Maddy found me in the barn, face white as limestone. “Dad, I messed up. I thought ‘18’ meant what you said last time, but it was the other number.”

I felt that old fatherly ache to say, “Move,” and fix it myself. But I’ve been a dad long enough to know the difference between rescue and theft. Rescue saves the day. Theft steals the lesson.

“What do you think needs doing?” I asked.

She swallowed. “We call. We own it. We make it right.”

I nodded. “Good plan. You call.”

She did. The clerk at the co-op was polite, then firm: opened bags can’t be returned. Maddy’s chin trembled, but she kept talking—asked for the manager, explained the calves, the mix-up, the label that looks like a NASA checklist. She didn’t cry. When the answer stayed no, she looked at me, not for rescue, but for courage.

“Can we go in person?” she asked.

We drove after chores, past the grain elevator that smells like warm cereal, past the church sign that said, “You are not a mistake.” Maddy carried one of the wrong bags into the office and stood on her tiptoes at the counter.

“I ordered the wrong blend,” she said. “My fault. I’ll pay the difference if you can help me fix it.”

The manager, a silver-haired woman with a faded 4-H clover pin, studied Maddy’s tag—Farm CFO—and then her face. “How old are you?”

“Twelve.”

“You read labels better than half the grown men who come in here,” the manager said, and her eyes softened. “We’ll take back the unopened bags at fifty percent and get you the right feed. And Saturday morning, you come to our nutrition clinic. You’ll teach part of it.”

On the way home, Maddy was quiet. At chores, she mixed the proper ration, measured like a chemist, and rubbed the sick calf’s neck until his tail swished. After dinner, she sat at the table, recalculating our margin with a dull pencil and a fierce little jaw.

That weekend at the county fair, she stood by her 4-H poster titled, “The $87.50 Mistake That Grew Me Up.” She’d graphed the protein percentages and taped on the co-op receipt, a small confession in black ink. Folks stopped to read. Some laughed because the title was good. Many nodded because the truth felt better than perfection.

A few of the online critics even showed up, faces I recognized from profile pictures and opinions. One woman said, “I thought you were making her work.” Maddy shrugged. “I am working,” she said. “That’s how I learn.”

That night, the sick calf ate with both ears forward. I leaned on the gate, listening to the rhythmic chew of animals that forgive. Maddy took off her name tag, scratched out CFO with the corner of a dime, and wrote below it in tiny letters: “Chief Failure Officer.” Then she grinned and added, “And Finance.”

I’ve been called a lazy dad by people who would sprint into every mess for their kids. But here’s what I’ve learned on hard ground: a parent’s job isn’t to clear the path—it’s to walk beside, ask good questions, and let the weight of real life build real muscle. If we rescue every time, we raise spectators. If we step back—with love and a safety net—we raise problem solvers.

Someday my girl won’t need me. That’s not the tragedy. That’s the harvest.
Discover more meaningful short stories The Story Maximalist

09/23/2025

09/21/2025

09/07/2025

The vaccine schedule isn’t arbitrary—it’s carefully designed to protect children before they’re most likely to be exposed to serious diseases, based on science. These diseases tend to strike at specific ages, which is why early vaccination is critical. Delaying vaccines until a child is older may seem harmless, but it actually leaves them vulnerable during the very time they need protection the most. By the time you wait, it could be too late.