Sight unseen

I am typing this sitting on the end of Monkey's bed waiting for him to fall asleep. This worked like a charm last night, but tonight might be a different story, since he had a good 2-hour nap today that didn't end till 4pm and it's only four and a half hours later now. As opposed to yesterday when he hadn't napped at all, so once he stayed still for two minutes, he was out for the count. We shall see.

I fear he has serious control issues and will need therapy as an adult, if the anorexia doesn't get him first. I mostly jest, but if you had seen him refusing to poo this morning (after a day and a half of fighting it), and watched the cogs in his head go round when we said the only way not to have to poo was not to eat, and that you couldn't do that because your body needed food, you might have thought the same. I hope I'm wrong.

I took him for an eyesight test yesterday, because his four-year checkup seemed to indicate that his vision wasn't all it should have been. We have always been pretty sure that our kids will need glasses, as genetics are heavily stacked against them on that front, but I didn't think it would be this soon. I spent a few days mourning his beautiful unimpeded face and fearing he'd look like Jonathan Lipnicki (though a good two years older). He, on the other hand, was delighted, as ever since B got new glasses last year Monkey has been pestering us to get him some too, saying that he can't see, that things look blurry, that he reeeeely wants glasses. Three pairs of sunglasses, plastic goggle things from the dentist, and a set of 3-D specs from Toy Story have only temporarily mollified him.

Anyway, I have to say that I was proud of him at the optician's office. He sat nicely while we waited (as his sister informed the whole shop at the top of her lungs that she wanted the pen I was using to fill in his information, yelling "Ning ning circle," while I wrote as fast as I could so that I could give back the ning (sorry, pen) and distract her with some Sandra Boynton dinosaurs). Then he sat on my knee (just one: Miss was taking up real estate on the other) to get him high enough for the first machine, which I think takes measurements of the eye. After which he got up into the eye doctor's big black chair and followed her instructions to the letter, answering her questions in a friendly and polite manner and generally being a credit to his parents. (Whoever they are. I'm not sure what kid this was, really. He looked vaguely familiar, but then I have terrible eyesight.) It's as if all the yelling and nagging and cajoling and informing actually have had some results, which is, I have to say, very heartening to see. I shall continue to yell and nag and cajole and inform, if this is what happens eventually. It would be nice if he was like that at home as well, but I know that's way too much to ask for.

Luckily, Miss was so intrigued by all that was going on (and by the nice polite alien that had clearly stolen her brother's body) that she sat on my knee the whole time and refrained from shouting for any more ning circles. Of course, now she wants glasses too.

But the good news (for me: he's disappointed) is that his eyesight is perfect: 20/20 vision and a little longsighted, which is normal for his age. So we'll have to wait a bit longer for this to become the reality. Which is fine with me.



(He's not asleep yet. I think I have to leave the room.)