I took Three to the doctor’s yesterday to get his sickness looked at because it seems to be because he’s really congested. Not that that stops him running around like a dervish, as they say, but still it might be something serious.
Now, Three likes to speak his mind, is afraid of no-one (except for the mythical ‘men’ who I threaten I will call to come and take him away if he keeps misbehaving...), and is very vocal.
We got in the doctor’s surgery and on duty was a plump, middle-aged, nervous looking woman, busy wiping her glasses with the bottom of her blouse as if trying to summon a genie.
Personally I thought she should see a doctor, but then I’m no expert.
Three stood in the corner, glaring at her as Six and I sat down. Then he pointed a finger at her and shouted,
"I will not come near you. You will not put that stellyscope near me. I will turn you into a monster because I am a Transformer. Leave me alone. You are a witch."
The doctor started flapping her hands and fanning herself. “My word!,” she said, “I have never come across a boy like this before."
I managed to get him to sit on my lap eventually with the threat he would have to go straight to hospital. She managed to look in his ears in amongst the screaming and howling but couldn't get him to take any breaths because he held his breath.
She reckoned he’s probably got a chest infection because his temperature was a bit high, but really she couldn’t be sure because he wouldn’t let her examine him.
At one stage she said, "I don't really know what to do because I've never experienced a boy like this before."
Well, welcome to my world.
The best bit was, when we were leaving he said to her, all innocent and kind and fluttering his eyelashes, “Could I please have my lolly now?”
She looked at him, frightened at this child who I’m sure she thought was the spawn of the devil himself and muttered, hands shaking, “I’m afraid we’re right out of lollies at the moment.”
Three stared at her, his brows knitting like Heathcliff’s. I picked him up under one arm and carried him out. “I want my lolly!,” he shouted as I bundled him into the Bentley.
Six, who now has one science lesson a week and is learning far too much for my liking, said, “Three, if we have to go to hospital they will carry out an examination of you and your bones. An infernal examination. Now, you don’t want one of those.”
No, indeed.