Seven year olds ask the best questions.
Littlest had an appointment in the scoliosis clinic this morning and in the car on the way there, she asked, "Why is my back crooked? What happens if it gets more crooked? (pitch beginning to rise ...) Will I need an operation? (pitch even higher ...) Will I need to be put to sleep? (pitch so high now that she sounds like a cat that has just stepped on a hot coal ...) Will it mean needles?"
Seven year olds also race toward a conclusion, unnervingly always managing to find the one they like the least, so with her almost hysterical in the back of the car, I had to retreat rapidly from the thought of needles, and try to explain the different degrees of crookedness, with the reassurance that hers is such a minimal crookedness that probably none of her friends have noticed and it is unlikely to involve any operations ... or needles. Certainly not any time soon.
Then in clinic, while she coloured at the drawing table, a little girl with an extreme crookedness sat down next to her and I could see Littlest thinking that's exactly what mum meant when she said my back wasn't very crooked. She squeezed her rabbit comforter and got on with colouring.
On the way home, Littlest confessed that she had found it hard not to look at the crooked little girl. "It's rude to stare," she said. "But when I was ... staring at her, I was thinking how lucky I am really."
The best questions, and sometimes the best lessons too.
Littlest had an appointment in the scoliosis clinic this morning and in the car on the way there, she asked, "Why is my back crooked? What happens if it gets more crooked? (pitch beginning to rise ...) Will I need an operation? (pitch even higher ...) Will I need to be put to sleep? (pitch so high now that she sounds like a cat that has just stepped on a hot coal ...) Will it mean needles?"
Seven year olds also race toward a conclusion, unnervingly always managing to find the one they like the least, so with her almost hysterical in the back of the car, I had to retreat rapidly from the thought of needles, and try to explain the different degrees of crookedness, with the reassurance that hers is such a minimal crookedness that probably none of her friends have noticed and it is unlikely to involve any operations ... or needles. Certainly not any time soon.
Then in clinic, while she coloured at the drawing table, a little girl with an extreme crookedness sat down next to her and I could see Littlest thinking that's exactly what mum meant when she said my back wasn't very crooked. She squeezed her rabbit comforter and got on with colouring.
On the way home, Littlest confessed that she had found it hard not to look at the crooked little girl. "It's rude to stare," she said. "But when I was ... staring at her, I was thinking how lucky I am really."
The best questions, and sometimes the best lessons too.
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