Oh, hi there! I was thinking about you all morning. Yes, YOU. Many thanks to everyone who chimed in with suggestions for my daughter’s warts (though no one suggested I set aside more money for therapy after discussing her wartiness with the entire internet, interesting). We went out yesterday and got her some Neem soap and some colloidal silver and also some tongue of newt and eye of wombat, plus I ordered some stuff to tape up horses, or something, I DON’T KNOW, it’s kind of all a blur, now. But thank you for all of your collective expertise and kind words, it really was very helpful.
And yeah, we decided she can continue to swim in OUR pool, at least. We’re already exposed, so I just can’t get too worked up about it.
I would’ve come and said all of this earlier this morning, but I couldn’t, because I was picturing my slow death at the doctor’s office.
The good news is that thanks to some cancellations, Monkey had his first long-awaited appointment with the specialist this morning. (You may recall that Otto and I already had the history appointment a few weeks ago.)
The bad news is that our appointment was at 9:30 and we arrived promptly at 9:20 and waited until nearly 10:45. And then I DIED. Because as much as I hate waiting for that long in a waiting room, as much as I hate waiting that long when I have an early morning appointment, as much as I hate waiting that long when I have a million things I need to be doing, as much as I hate doctors believing that their time is more valuable than their patients’, as much as I hate ALL OF THOSE THINGS, there is NOTHING I hate more than having to make a child wait that long.
You know, I am rather fond of my children. And for all of their faults, I happen to believe that on the whole they’re pretty good kids. But I have to say that I don’t know an 8-year-old on the planet who can sit quietly in a waiting room for 90 minutes while people go in and out and talk on their cell phones and people who came in later than us get to go in, be seen, and LEAVE before we’ve even been acknowledged. That’s just insanity.
Monkey sat and read his book. And then he sat and cuddled with me for a while. And then he sat and bugged Otto for a while. And then he read some more. And then… he started whining.
Hard to blame him, really. I sort of wanted to whine, myself.
And finally, FINALLY, the doctor came out, and all three of us started to head in, and the doctor said, “No, I just want to see him alone for a bit,” and I faltered. Would Monkey object? Monkey nodded and waved at me, and as he disappeared around the corner with the tardy doctor, we were able to overhear the following exchange:
Doctor: Hi, Maaahnkey.
Monkey: Hi. The next time we come here we’re going to be an hour late because you made us wait an hour. Also, it’s MONKEY. You’re saying it wrong.
That’s my boy.