Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Wherein I get told by a five-year-old
My patient is wearing this cute white-and-blue thing, kind of tie-dyed with raggedy frills sewn on here and there, Flash Dance meets the 60s hippie chic. She’s terribly cute.
“What a pretty dress!” I told her. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Which was true.
“Thank you,” she said. Then, “But it’s not a dress. It’s a skirt plus a top.”
I frowned at her, as ogre-like as I could make myself. “What do I know? I’m a guy.”
And then her mom and I cracked up and I couldn’t get any more work done for the next couple minutes.
D.
did she talk to you in that Terribly Patient voice little kids can use? It kills me when they talk to us like they know we’re sweet but slightly brain damaged.
oh, yeah. That was a big part of the fun.
Did you get an eye-roll too?
It’s cute at 5, not quite so cute at 14.
No eye-roll . . . she was the very picture of politeness.