I was bringing the boy to school from an orthodontist appointment. He had braces when he was young because his adult teeth came in so early. The braces were removed awhile ago, but the orthodontist (is there a short version of that? “Ortho” sounds like weed killer…) has him come back every 3 months to make sure the adjustment is holding. So far, it has.
About 5 minutes from the school, he sniffled. Again. He’s been doing it constantly for the past couple of days. Earlier, while waiting at the orthodontist’s, he’d asked me what he could do to unclog his nose. Since it was still single digits outside, I suggested going outside and breathing in the cold air for a few minutes. Hey, it’s worked for me in the past.
He’d come back in and said it didn’t work. When I asked him if he’d taken deep slow breaths in through his nose, he replied “OOOOOOOOOH…” Apparently, he’d been breathing through his mouth. So he went back out, then came back in. Still didn’t work. Oh well, I’m not a doctor.
But here, in the car, after this sniffle he let out a long exasperated sigh and whined “Why do I always get this stuffy nose for 2 months?”
First, he doesn’t always get a stuffy nose. Seconds, it’s been 2 days, maybe. Third, what’s with the random precision of “2 months”? Why not something more general like “for so long”? It was remarkable the amount of emotion his nose had unleashed.
I corrected his exaggerations, which he grudgingly admitted to. Regarding the “2 months” thing, he retorted “Either way, it’s been too long.”
The lass got up a bit late this morning as is her wont. When she got downstairs, she huffed around and grunted a bit and offered no civilized courtesies like “Good morning.”
Then she sat down to put on her shoes.
Words would fail to truly capture the spectacle. Well, no- that’s not entirely true. I just can’t remember the steady torrent of frustration that she verbalized as she struggled with her “stupid shoes.”
Too listen to her, one could be totally convinced that her shoes were sentient beings with the sole purpose of thwarting her every attempt to get them on properly. Every time she pulled them on, something was wrong- a sock was messed up, it didn’t feel right, the shoe’s tongue got bound up. Her frustration level grew as the minutes passed and the shoes continued to frustrate her. By the end, she was screaming at the top of her lungs at her stupid shoes.
The dogs had retreated to the far corners of the house. The Wife looked on with bemused astonishment. I drank coffee, then counted the minutes to 8 o’clock- far too many.
When finally she succeeded, breakfast became her next challenge. She’s never sure what to have in th mornings because “It’s always the same thing.” Never mind that this circumstance has as much to do with her own finickiness as it does with the fact that there are only so many things that can be prepared in a timely manner for breakfast. She finally settled on syrup with waffles, which she’d had yesterday.
Upon returning home from dropping off the boy, the house was quiet. The dogs made a brief fuss upon my entry, but quickly settled down as I went about a few chores this morning. I took care of a little laundry. Then, I finished tidying up the kitchen. I restocked the wood by the fireplace in an attempt to keep the house warm- it’s remarkable how difficult single digit temps can make that task.
When I was done, I walked over to the couch, sat down and picked up my Nook and started perusing through the news and other goings on via the web. I let out a deep breath, relaxed and thought “That wasn’t so bad.”