Thank God it's Monday

Unlike most people, whose motto seems to be "TGIF", I'm a "Thank God it's Monday" person. While the week has a routine to it (and quiet time for me during the day) weekends are a not-so-carefully orchestrated mash-up of car-pooling, staying up late for the teens, and wondering who'll be around for dinner.

This weekend was no exception, but no, I'm not going to bore you rigid  give you a blow-by-blow account. Just the highlights.

So on Friday I got a call from the school nurse who, I suspect, has me on speed dial. This time it was the Little Guy, who apparently had a cracking headache and blurred vision. He's had headaches (like me and the Queenager) for as long as I can remember and we've already had him checked for more serious issues. The blurred vision however, is a new thing, so I decided to get his eyes checked properly. They have the school vision tests every year, and though nothing has been picked up, I wasn't so sure.

He wasn't at all keen on going, but I later discovered that using the words "test" or "exam" gave him a rather negative impression of the whole process. It doesn't help to have two teenage siblings who whine about tests all the time. Fortunately, when he finally got behind the big pair of glasses and had to read letters and colours, he was surprised at how much fun it was.

Until they puffed the air into his eyeball. We didn't really warn him about it so when that first jet of air hit the eye, he jumped back off the stool about two feet and let out a loud "Whooaaa!". (We don't call him Broadway Joe for nothing.) Everyone in the room fell about laughing. He wasn't amused when we told him the other eye needed to be done, but he went through with it. Even when they put the pupil-dilating drops in his eye he was as good as gold, although he was careful to point out that he wouldn't have been this good if his mom had been doing it. Well, at least he's honest!

For anyone who's never had the pupil dilation done, let's just say it's very strange. Not only do your pupils take over your irises, giving you an alien appearance, your vision is blurred but not for everything. You can see things in the distance but nothing close up. Little Guy has no filter from brain to mouth so we had a running commentary as the drops took effect. This was 3pm on Saturday and we were told it would take about 24 hours to wear off. That's 24 hours of running commentary and dramatic interpretation in the form of "accidentally" bumping into walls, not being able to see his dinner, and tripping over the dog.

Monday morning, his pupils are only slightly smaller and he still can't see properly (I'm taking him in again later today, so don't worry.)

This morning, as I walked him into the classroom, not only did I think "Thank God It's Monday" but I told the teacher what was going on, handed him over to her and said "OK, it's your turn. I'm going for a lie down".

Boy can that child talk!