My daughter and I went to the chiropracter yesterday. I have some issues with my neck, so we see this guy pretty regularly and he has a casual familiarity with our situation. This was a normal visit -- nothing out of the ordinary, no unusual circumstances, just normal operating procedure. Anne went into the office for her adjustment while I chatted with the receptionist. Then she came out of the office and switched places with me. I went in like I usually do, smiling and ready to, "shoot the breeze."
No sooner was I face-down on the exam table than the doctor asked me, completely out of the blue, "Do you talk to your husband often?"
I was a little surprized because I had NO idea where that question came from. We had just finished with the, "How are you?" phase of conversation.
"No," I answered, not knowing what information he was really after.
"Is that Anne's dad?" he wanted to know.
I confirmed.
"Well, does he at least talk to Anne pretty often?" the doctor asked.
"No," I answered.
I could feel the doctor shaking his head. A fraction of a moment passed before another thought seemed to occur to him. He asked, "Is that his decision or because she doesn't want to talk to him?"
I really do not know where this line of questioning came from, but there was obviously something resting on the doctor's heart. I hope my answer helped him. The fact of the matter is that my family's situation is a little unusual, so I am not sure how much help I was. The line of questioning, however, did give me an opportunity to vent a little about human idiocy.
About an hour later, I sat at dinner with Anne. I asked if she had heard any of my conversation with the doctor. She shook her head no. (That was a relief.) I nodded.
"Just so you know," I volunteered, "if there is ever a time after you go to college when I do something totally stupid and you don't want to talk to me, I might not call you on the phone but I will totally harass you with presents and cards on every holiday I possibly can. Even Presidents Day -- you will get a card."
Anne nodded, matter of factly stating, "I know. You'll send me dorky presents like you do for Phillip -- reindeer that poop jelly beans."
"No, worse than that," I responded. "Phillip is smart. He actually talks to me every now and again, so I only send him presents sometimes. In fact, darn, I was going to give him that one thing we picked up at the Joke Shop when he came to the wedding and I forgot. Now I'll have to mail it... No, when I say I will send you cards and presents, I am talking ALL the time. Every birthday, every holiday, even holidays you don't realize exist. Every opportunity I can find to send you something, I will. What are you going to do? Complain to a judge that your mommy is sending you too many presents?" Anne laughed at that. Even the sound of it was ridiculous.
"Oh, and the reindeer did not poop jelly beans," I added as a sort of afterthought. "The bunny is what pooped jelly beans. The reindeer pooped little chocolate pellets."
Anne just lifted her eyebrows and stared at me. Not a word escaped her lips. There was no need. I had just proven her point. She does not care to receive pooping toys -- She will not completely cut me off.
No sooner was I face-down on the exam table than the doctor asked me, completely out of the blue, "Do you talk to your husband often?"
I was a little surprized because I had NO idea where that question came from. We had just finished with the, "How are you?" phase of conversation.
"No," I answered, not knowing what information he was really after.
"Is that Anne's dad?" he wanted to know.
I confirmed.
"Well, does he at least talk to Anne pretty often?" the doctor asked.
"No," I answered.
I could feel the doctor shaking his head. A fraction of a moment passed before another thought seemed to occur to him. He asked, "Is that his decision or because she doesn't want to talk to him?"
I really do not know where this line of questioning came from, but there was obviously something resting on the doctor's heart. I hope my answer helped him. The fact of the matter is that my family's situation is a little unusual, so I am not sure how much help I was. The line of questioning, however, did give me an opportunity to vent a little about human idiocy.
About an hour later, I sat at dinner with Anne. I asked if she had heard any of my conversation with the doctor. She shook her head no. (That was a relief.) I nodded.
"Just so you know," I volunteered, "if there is ever a time after you go to college when I do something totally stupid and you don't want to talk to me, I might not call you on the phone but I will totally harass you with presents and cards on every holiday I possibly can. Even Presidents Day -- you will get a card."
Anne nodded, matter of factly stating, "I know. You'll send me dorky presents like you do for Phillip -- reindeer that poop jelly beans."
"No, worse than that," I responded. "Phillip is smart. He actually talks to me every now and again, so I only send him presents sometimes. In fact, darn, I was going to give him that one thing we picked up at the Joke Shop when he came to the wedding and I forgot. Now I'll have to mail it... No, when I say I will send you cards and presents, I am talking ALL the time. Every birthday, every holiday, even holidays you don't realize exist. Every opportunity I can find to send you something, I will. What are you going to do? Complain to a judge that your mommy is sending you too many presents?" Anne laughed at that. Even the sound of it was ridiculous.
"Oh, and the reindeer did not poop jelly beans," I added as a sort of afterthought. "The bunny is what pooped jelly beans. The reindeer pooped little chocolate pellets."
Anne just lifted her eyebrows and stared at me. Not a word escaped her lips. There was no need. I had just proven her point. She does not care to receive pooping toys -- She will not completely cut me off.
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