Tell It Like It Is

Yesterday, I took William to a sleep clinic appointment. He snores loudly, seems to not breathe for a good while, then gasps, and generally makes our nights miserable for all by waking frequently. We evidently said the right things and got set up to do a sleep study in July. The question is, will I survive on little sleep until then?

While at the appointment, we sat in a waiting room devoid of magazines or toys. So, I engaged in people watching. The woman signing in at the receptionist was impressive. I admired her pink turban which brought her height to well over 6 foot. A dark pink tunic embroidered with roses flowed to her knees where it was joined by a matching pair of pantaloons underneath. Her girth was only hinted at by her fat ankles perched delicately on tiny pink heels, and I wondered that she was able to walk on them. But the initial impression was of an African queen, and one you dared not cross. I admired her style.

Willliam and I then discovered that there was a small room, closet really, that had a few pitiful toys and called itself a playroom. We went in there to look around. One boy already sat using the crayons. There wasn't much else there, but we were soon joined by the very imposing Queen and her two children, one adolescent and one about 2 years old. The adolescent was scolded for using a computer in there, as "we don't know anybody's business" and there was some concern for whether the computer was for public use. I understood that. But, fidgety in the small space, the two siblings began to annoy Queen, and she responded by loudly telling them to "shut up" and threatening what she was going to do to them if they didn't.

Afraid that it would escalate into our observation of her threats, I quietly encouraged Wm to follow me back out to the main waiting room to read some books I'd brought. Loudly, and within earshot of the playroom, Will said, "Why Mommy? 'Cause you don't want to listen to all that yellin'?"