Bramble Tamble

Eye appointment today. It was My Son Cool's first visit to the eye doctor.

A few months ago, he had his 5-year checkup at his pediatrician's, and he took a quickie eye test in the hallway. Seemed to have passed with flying colors, and I was thrilled because Daddy has terrible vision - without glasses or contacts, my vision is somewhere around 20/400. Bats look at me and say, "Wow. We thought *we* were blind! Sorry, pal." And the last thing I wanted was for him to inherit my eyes because having poor vision is a grand pain in the ass on so many levels.

(Editor's note: The writer's usage of the word "seemed" in the last paragraph ought to serve as foreshadowing as to how this story ends.)

So My Son Cool needs glasses, and it's a little heartbreaking, really. Not because of the social stigma attached to glasses, because that doesn't really exist anymore. (Eye doctor said it was because everyone has glasses now because we're a reading society, while I contend that it's more to do with our reliance on computers, PDAs and the like. The truth falls somewhere in between, I'm sure.) Rather, I wished wholeheartedly - and thought before today that this was the case - that he had inherited my wife's eyes instead of mine. Her vision isn't perfect, by any stretch, though it's a hell of a sight better than mine (no pun intended).

Instead, the eye doctor said, "Yep. He's definitely your son."

Hopefully, instead of crying over spilled lemonade, we can make the lemons into a nice meringue. Maybe the fact that he can't see close up (are you sure he's my son? He's far-sighted!) makes everything a blur, makes it hard to concentrate on coloring or whatever kindergarten tasks he undertakes. And, as I mentioned on Twitter this week, he's not been the best-behaved child in his class since school started. Maybe this might help?

Please, God?

----------------
Now playing: Sloan - Cheap Champagne
via FoxyTunes