I live in a retirement town. We have 53 golf courses in the 3 small towns that make up our rural suburb. Old people driving while I'm trying to take/pick up my kids from school are the bane of my existence. So, today, I'm at the Dr.'s office w/the little three: Squareboy 10, Daughter, 6 and Trout 11 months. We get shuffled around to 3 different rooms in an hour. By the end of the hour the little three are restless. Wild animal restless.
Squareboy is laying on his tummy, playing gameboy, sliding around the room on the Dr.'s stool. Daughter is standing on the examining table pretending she's a model on the runway. Oh. And she's wearing size 0-3 month shorts. Trout is pushing the, empty, surgical instrument table-on-wheels around the room going "Brmmmm-brmmmm" and occasionally banging it into the, metal, examining table Daughter is prancing around on.
I tried to stop Trout, from the banging, and got loud, high-pitched squeals of disagreement. They used to call his dad Piccolo Pete at this age. I stopped trying to dissuade him and tried playing with him. At this point the nurse came in & quietly started lecturing Daughter... who immediately sat down to listen intently. A change of scenery is always interesting.
"Sweetie," says the nurse, "you are scaring the old people." I'm sitting there wondering how the heck Daughter is scaring old people in another room by pretending to be a model on a catwalk in size 0-3 month shorts. I'm way confused. And then the light dawns, it's not Daughter who's scaring the old people. It's Piccolo Pete II.
The nurse doesn't believe me when I explain, after all, Trout is pretty darn angelic looking. So Squareboy, ever helpful, jumps up, teases the baby, torturing him into demonstrating the squeal and then sits back expecting to be rewarded. I'm surprised the nurse didn't verbalize her "WTF!??!" expression.
