Monday, February 12, 2007
Friday, February 09, 2007
Mommies Who Lie
Earlier this week we took Milo in for his 15 month shots. I'd spent most of the day telling him he was going to go to the doctor and get shots ("sshhots" Milo would repeat, nodding his head) followed by Band-Aids, knowing that he wasn't really processing anything except for the Band Aid part. He spent a happy 30 minutes running around the office in a diaper, opening drawers and playing with syringes, until the doctor came in and began asking questions, like how was Milo's walking and what was he eating and how many words did he have.
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe fifty words?"
The doctor looked at me like I was clearly one of these annoying overachieving lying Park Slope mothers.
"And is he stacking blocks?" asked the doctor.
"No." I said.
"Thanks for your honesty," said the doctor. "He probably won't do that until 18 months, but a lot of people come in and say their 15-month-old can build the Empire State Building."
So what, the whole block-stacking thing was just a trick question? It was a question about me, not about Milo, right? It was a question that clearly stated, you are lying about how many words your son says, so I am going to find out what else you might lie about.
Then the doctor picked up that ear-looking-into thing doctors use and Milo reached for it and said, "hammer."
"It's not a hammer," I said, although I was then hard-pressed to know exaclty what to call it, other than an ear-looking-into thing.
"It does look like a hammer," said the doctor.
At which point I grabbed the ear-looking-into thing, shoved it against the doctor's neck and screamed, "SAY IT! SAY MILO HAS FIFTY WORDS! SAY IT!".
"Okay," said the doctor. "He has fifty words."
"Thank you," I said, sitting back down and handing him the ear-looking-into thing. "You can continue with the examination now."
"I don't know," I said. "Maybe fifty words?"
The doctor looked at me like I was clearly one of these annoying overachieving lying Park Slope mothers.
"And is he stacking blocks?" asked the doctor.
"No." I said.
"Thanks for your honesty," said the doctor. "He probably won't do that until 18 months, but a lot of people come in and say their 15-month-old can build the Empire State Building."
So what, the whole block-stacking thing was just a trick question? It was a question about me, not about Milo, right? It was a question that clearly stated, you are lying about how many words your son says, so I am going to find out what else you might lie about.
Then the doctor picked up that ear-looking-into thing doctors use and Milo reached for it and said, "hammer."
"It's not a hammer," I said, although I was then hard-pressed to know exaclty what to call it, other than an ear-looking-into thing.
"It does look like a hammer," said the doctor.
At which point I grabbed the ear-looking-into thing, shoved it against the doctor's neck and screamed, "SAY IT! SAY MILO HAS FIFTY WORDS! SAY IT!".
"Okay," said the doctor. "He has fifty words."
"Thank you," I said, sitting back down and handing him the ear-looking-into thing. "You can continue with the examination now."
