Sometimes genetics suck. I remember last year as we waited with my dad to discuss options for his heart surgery (turns out there were none apart from a triple bypass, except imminent death) he kept asking the specialists: "What could I have done differently?" The answer was always the same. Nothing. One doctor summed it up more succinctly. "Well," he said, peering intently at the photos of my dad's angiogram: "you could have had different parents."
This week I suspect my son has been wishing the same thing.
Specifically that he had a different mother.
I'm short sighted. Horribly short sighted. I can't do much without my glasses and on the rare occasions I don't wear them I simply see a fuzz about 5 metres away from me. It's turned out to be useful at parties. If I don't wear glasses, I don't see how big the crowd is and I don't get nervous. It's an awesome destress tool.
One of the many suggestions touted in what seems to be an unending quest for support for Mr Large was an eye test. We duly booked in for one but because it is child specific the wait has been a long one.
Mr Large has made his feelings on the subject of glasses very clear. They are UNACCEPTABLE. When you are 7 and shy, anything that makes you less conventional is deeply upsetting. So we haven't discussed it much.
It was the elephant in the room. Except, it was an elephant wearing glasses.
We went for the test.
The results will not surprise you.
Cue a complete tearful breakdown from Mr Large and a heart-wrenching drive back to his school with me feeling like the most hopeless mother EVER. Hopeless for not realising that maybe an eyesight problem might be a factor, because HEY LOOK WHO ELSE CAN'T SEE? and helpless because he has to wear them and that's the end of it.
We didn't even get round to picking out frames because he couldn't see through the big, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.
So I was dreading today because I had to take him today to buy some.
But yesterday he came bouncing up to me after school begging to know when we could get new glasses. I mean BEGGING.
Turns out, a little girl in his class for whom he has a huge soft spot, is organising a play. It's a Shakespearean tragedy. No it's not. It's Alvin and the Chipmunks. She has asked commanded him to be Simon the Chipmunk. On account of his pending glasses wearing status.
And so of course he needs them now.
And all the tears, stress and anxiety associated with said glasses has now diminished hugely. And in a way I'm looking forward to our shopping trip this afternoon. I'm seriously thinking of buying this little girl a present too.
And we're renting out the movie this weekend as well. But somehow I don't think Mr Large will be getting glasses EXACTLY like Simon.