Setting: Wednesday morning. Inside yet another doctor's office... This time, orthopedics.
Characters: The youngest, a very nice doctor, his 18 year-old sidekick and me.
Scene- After a cast is applied to the youngest's left arm, a conversation ensues. All characters stare directly and pathetically at me.
...it went a little something like this...
"You're all set, young man. I'll see you in a few weeks. By then, you'll be as good as new.." cheered on the doctor.
"Mom! This is my writing hand! What am I gonna do?" the youngest asked, frustrated.
"It will be fine. I will help you...We can practice with your other hand." I say reassuringly.
"But I eat with this hand!" he argued.
"I told you, honey. I will help you." I said while nudging him slightly out of the doctor's office...
Stopping in his tracks, he looked at me and whined, "But MOOOOOOOOM?"
"Whaaaaaat?" I asked in a 'can-we-for-the-love-of-all-that's-good-please-go-and-talk-about-this-in-the-car?' kind of voice..
As if to remind everyone in the room of his injury, the youngest lifted up the bright orange cast covering his arm from wrist-to-elbow and shouted,
"THIS is my wiping hand too!"
Cheers to a germ-free six-weeks, friends.