Monday, December 12, 2011

Tales from Optometry

We left the eye doctor tonight just after dark.  As I turned to look over my shoulder and back out the car, I saw two wide, dilated pupils looking at me.  Two giant, sad pupils.

"Buddy? What's wrong?"

"I'm trying not to cry, Mom."


"Because I just don't want to right now."  His lip started to shake.  Damn that lip.

"No.  Honey.  You can cry if you want.  I meant why are you wanting to cry?"

"I just wanted to get glasses too.  Like Ad."

After nearly two hours of eye tests, frame shopping, hemming, hawing, and being cajoled in the optometrist's office, his sister had decided on a cool new pair of black and white frames with polycarbonate transitions lenses.  The unfortunate catch is that she has to wear a patch for an hour a day again.  We thought we were out of the woods on that one, so it took some careful cheerleading to encourage her.  I didn't want her in a fit over it.  I wanted to handle it delicately.

The problem with handling it delicately was that by the time we made it into the car, Buddy was SUPER jealous that he didn't get to pick out any new frames.  He didn't get polycarbonate anything.  The cute girl behind the desk didn't measure his head.  There was no studious and edgy future for him.  The fake, geriatric-looking sunglasses they gave him after he got the drops lost their lustre after about three minutes.

While I had been looking at all of the choices with Ad, he curled the plastic roll-up sunglasses against the edge of the shelf and dragged his Vans across the tile.  "I hate these ones, Mom."

"I know, Bud.  Put them back on if your eyes hurt, though."

"I think I need real glasses.  Look how hard it is for me to see outside that window." He fake strained at the glass to see outside.

"No, Buddy.  That's a grey screen over the outside."

Resigning, he just mumbled, "oh."

Nobody was tricking me into glasses they didn't need.  Nope.  I already know how much of a pain it is to get one of these two to remember to wear them.  If he's lucky enough to have his father's perfect eyes, God bless 'im.  I told him he was fine and he was lucky he didn't have to mess with glasses at all.  I wasn't feeling too happy about dropping dough on my own new contacts for the year.

But the effect of my being Champion of all things Eyeglass-like was that he got kinda pouty by the time we were in the car.  He grumped all the way through his McDonald's cheeseburger on the way home.

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