Here’s my trip, the condensed
Please permit me a brief

I went to the eye

I went to the eye doc today for my three week check after the lasik. I was supposed to go Monday, without the kids, but a snowy morning scuttled those plans. So I ended up there this afternoon, with all three boys.
Right at Raphael’s naptime.
Now, if you’re thinking to yourself this may be a recipe for disaster, give yourself a gold star for astuteness. To make matters worse, I was ten minutes late. Now I don’t want to make excuses for myself or anything, but I would have been on time had Raphael not decided on the way out the door to…require a clean diaper. BADLY. Birds were falling out of the air. It was potent.
Hmm. Possibly y’all get the point there. Moving on.
So anyhow, I arrived with my tribe in tow. The people behind the desk were all raised eyebrows and subtle glances at the clock. Yes, I admit it, I was late.
And when you’re late, you have to pay penance by waiting an extra long time for the doctor. I know it’s deserved, that people who are late screw with the Almighty Schedule, but this left me in a room roughly the size of a shoebox, completely lined with things that should not be touched.
I passed out candy, I told stories about belly button snatchers, and I sang songs about ducks that go “wibble-wobble.” I did all I could to entertain the boys – by which I mean Raphael, who was in full destructo-baby mode.
Finally the doctor came in, and glanced around the room with a look something akin to horror. Max crawled out from under the chair. Doc gave a somewhat forced chuckle and asked, “Well, my goodness, how many children do we have in here?”
I was holding Raphael in what I hoped appeared to be a normal way, although my true intent was pinning his arms to his side. He really wanted the doctor’s light off the desk.
“Just three,” I replied cheerfully.
“Um…and their mother,” he responded.
Not sure how to take that.
I sat down and proceeded to be examined. One thing about an eye exam, it makes it hard to shoot death glares at misbehaving children. But the boys were behaving themselves…um…fairly well. Tre was sitting in the chair quietly, only occasionally kicking Max in the head when he bit him on the shin. Max was…well, climbing under the chair and biting his brother on the shin. Raphael unsnapped all the snaps on the legs of his overalls, and when that got boring, moved to emptying my purse. He found some feminine hygiene products, which he proceeded to unwrap.
The doctor, meanwhile, was being a doctor. He pronounced my eyes wonderful, my vision better than it had been in contacts (I could have told him that). He asked if I was using my artificial tears. I replied that I had a hard time remembering, because my eyes felt fine. A little dry in the morning, but that’s it.
“Well, that’s fine. You’re young and moist,” he replied.
I don’t know that I’ve ever been called moist before. Not sure how to take that….
But we all survived. I made my next appointment (three month check), and hi tailed it out of there.
If I have to take the boys to another doctor’s appointment, I’m bringing duct tape.


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