Eyes (not the recently cancelled Tim Daly show)
I saw the eye doctor today. No particular reason, it was just time for my annual appointment. Plus, I busted that pair of glasses in Saint Babs; my insurance is ready to buy me a new pair around about now, so I might as well get a new Rx. I have an even more uneasy relationship with optometrists than I do with dentists, but my eyes have been pisspoor beyond reason since I was at six or seven years old, so I go. When I was still in single digits, I had eye drops prescribed for something or other. It was up to my mother to get them into my eyes. I flinched, I squirmed, I turned away. She cursed. Eventually, she gave up and put the drops into my closed eyes. That’s pretty much what happened today. Well, I didn’t squirm quite as much. I just flinched a lot. The optometrist didn’t curse. I did at one point. Eventually she got the drops into the corners of my closed eyes. She couldn’t manage to get the eye pressure test done right, though I would have been game to try a bit longer. The eye drops made it hard for me to get me eyes open as wide as necessary, and I couldn’t hold still when she tried to prop them open with her fingers. I wanted to, but it felt just a bit Ludovico technique. I can understand her willingness to throw in the towel. I was the last appointment of the day, and I’m sure she wanted to go home. Problem patient, me. The retinal scan, on the other hand, was easy peasy, and even though I’ve done it a few times now, it’s still novel seeing a picture of the inside of my eye instantaneously appear on the computer screen (this one’s not mine).
When I got home, Mama Dog was keen to be taken out for supper, so I took her to Picante. As Mama Dog pointed out tonight, I used to be reluctant to go there when she suggested it – Mexican’s not high on my list of favourite cuisines – but since we had the wee bairn, I’m always up for it. It’s probably the best restaurant in town to take a child to. It’s fast, well stocked with high chairs (mostly broken in one way or another, but still), and noisy not least because it’s filled with small children whose parents have been following our very same line of reasoning. Add the fact that it’s not a gross mall restaurant, and we’ve got a winner.
We brought Piggy along for Baby Dog to entertain herself with, but I also added a spoon and a plastic water cup to the mix. When I showed her that the spoon could be placed inside the cup, she was kept busy for the duration of our entrées trying to duplicate this miraculous feat. It’s fascinating to see just how complicated it really is to do such a simple task for the first time. There are so many elements to coordinate. The cup must be held steady with one hand. The spoon must be poised at an auspicious angle in the other hand. Trickiest of all is the hand-eye coordination necessary to navigate the spoon successfully into the cup’s opening. She kept getting tantalisingly close and missing, but never gave up. When she finally did get the spoon into the cup, she looked up at us, beaming. We applauded. It really did seem like a tremendous achievement.
When I got home, Mama Dog was keen to be taken out for supper, so I took her to Picante. As Mama Dog pointed out tonight, I used to be reluctant to go there when she suggested it – Mexican’s not high on my list of favourite cuisines – but since we had the wee bairn, I’m always up for it. It’s probably the best restaurant in town to take a child to. It’s fast, well stocked with high chairs (mostly broken in one way or another, but still), and noisy not least because it’s filled with small children whose parents have been following our very same line of reasoning. Add the fact that it’s not a gross mall restaurant, and we’ve got a winner.
We brought Piggy along for Baby Dog to entertain herself with, but I also added a spoon and a plastic water cup to the mix. When I showed her that the spoon could be placed inside the cup, she was kept busy for the duration of our entrées trying to duplicate this miraculous feat. It’s fascinating to see just how complicated it really is to do such a simple task for the first time. There are so many elements to coordinate. The cup must be held steady with one hand. The spoon must be poised at an auspicious angle in the other hand. Trickiest of all is the hand-eye coordination necessary to navigate the spoon successfully into the cup’s opening. She kept getting tantalisingly close and missing, but never gave up. When she finally did get the spoon into the cup, she looked up at us, beaming. We applauded. It really did seem like a tremendous achievement.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 9:54 PM
2 Comments:
It is the little things that thrill them, and in turn, thrill us!
I likened your optometrist's experience with trying to get eyedrops into your eyes to that of Doggy Dog's vet attempting to take his (rectal) temperature. Na ga da.
Post a Comment
<< Home