Okay, remember that time I wrote about my disdain for parents who strap a chunk of plastic to their kids’ heads in the hopes that what little goodness is sloshing about between their ears will actually morph into something that gets them somewhere? Like graduate school? Or space? Or some organizational boardroom worthy of a government bailout?
Yeah. Well, Pretty Bride called me today from Owen’s pediatrician’s office.
PB: On my way out of the doctor’s office…
Me: You’re on the phone while driving your new minivan? Are you using a handsfree device? If I have to–
PB: The doctor is threating to put your son in a helmet.
Me: NOOOOOO! Can’t he just tell us Owen’s got autism or will one day pluralize nouns with an apostrophe?
PB: He says the boy favors one side when he lies down and that, consequently, he’s developing a flat skull on one side.
Me: Like Frankenstein? What’s wrong with that? We won’t have to spend shit at Halloween!
PB: Muskrat! Do you really want your son to be “the flat faced kid” at school?
Me: No. It’s just…my blogging friends will make fun of me. They’ll ask me how crow tastes. You should’ve seen the awfulness they spewed at me after admitting to buying the minivan.
PB: The doc gave us one more chance to get him to strengthen the other side of his neck muscles, lie on his other side, and avoid the Stormtrooper treatment.
Me: Whatever we gotta do, we’re doing it. He ain’t wearing no damned helmet all the time like the pussyboy neighbor’s kid.
PB: You were ridiculed a lot as a kid, weren’t you.