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November 07, 2009 at 05:00 PM EST

After some tinkering with the tried-and-true formula, Grey’s Anatomy was back to its Grey’sian ways. And as for a lover who’s been absent, my heart beat ever fonder for this episode. (Will I feel similarly when the MIA Izzie and bedridden-for-weeks Meredith return next time? We shall see.)

We went all-peds this round, with a 15-year-old who fell off a roof and broke a whopping 52 bones (and quite graphically), a 10-week premature baby (did you swoon, too, every single time they showed that miniature baby?) who had a stroke in the womb, and an almost-11-year-old boy who’d been battling a serious intestinal problem for two years and 15 surgeries. The latter, Wallace, had developed a habit during his hospital time of playing doctor with Arizona, even dressing up in little scrubs and wearing glasses and going on rounds. Incredibly adorable, which made me worry for him instantly. Pediatrics, Arizona explained, is a place of fairy dust, not IV bags. ”In peds, we have magic and miracles,” she said. ”In peds, anything is possible.” Even Hunt had to smile at her heartfelt speech.

But he had his own problems. Like the little boy, Cristina was itching to be a doctor, too — that is, the kind of surgeon she knew she could be again if only she had the chance — continuing the career crisis she’s been suffering this season. Hunt knew she’d be mad he didn’t bring her in for the pre-dawn emergencies, but he didn’t know what to do about it, either, so he went with ignoring her anger. ”Oh, that’s your plan?” Callie said. ”Ignore the scalpel-hungry animal?” Yeah, I was worried for Hunt, too, though on a totally different level from Wallace.

The little aspiring doctor’s parents then upped the ante, telling the Chief and the Cold-Hearted Administrative Dude that they’d be bestowing a $25 million gift on what I guess we now call Seattle Grace-Mercy West, half of which would go to researching their son’s disease, and half to the hospital. It would be in honor of their son’s birthday and Arizona’s, which they shared, and was in a few days. This, of course, would come at an awfully good time for the ailing, now merged, medical centers, making their son’s fate all the more nerve-wracking. (I wondered: Could they go back to being two separate entities if they got enough money? And if so, how much would it take? And if so, could we keep Dr. Hottie Jackson?)

Calming our nerves a bit was that glorious group breakfast scene at Callie and Cristina’s place. I am going there every day before work from now on. Callie was actually making breakfast to order for all the happy couples — Mark and Lexie, Cristina and Owen, her and Arizona. Oatmeal, side of fruit, and wheat toast hold the butter! (Owen.) Cheese omelet, extra butter cinnamon toast, crispy bacon! (Cristina. Wow, I’d rather be Cristina.) Banter! (Mark, on the $25 million gift Arizona had wrangled: ”Maybe I should start doing more cleft palate kids. Everyone’s a sucker for those.”)

NEXT: Alex bares himeslf

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Meredith. Alex. Bailey. Arizona. The doctors are definitely in on Shonda Rhimes’ hospital melodrama.
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