"Is this the kind of Doctor's Office that lets you have a sticker when you're done?" My four year old whispered innocently - yet cleverly. I knew exactly where she was going with this. The poor nurse was being ambushed. As Haven went on with her question, the nurse listened curiously.
I jumped in so we could quickly get to the point. "Do you mean,... after my visit is over - are certain little girls allowed to have a sticker," I asked. "Even if "the little girl" was not the patient?" Haven's head bobbed up and down, and a small, "Yeah! Yeah!" squeaked out. I knew that was what Haven had wanted. She even seemed to drool a little,... in anticipation.
"Oh, I bet we can find a sticker for you," the nurse said, cooing at Haven. "You have been very well behaved," she added, winking. Raising my eyebrows, I looked at Haven. The poor nurse never saw it coming. She was cunningly caught in the web of my four year old - as "the student." Haven was clearly "the master."
"What kind of stickers do you like?" The nurse asked, in a pleasant sing-song voice. "Do you like stickers with cars on them? Or maybe you like ones with princesses?" She smiled. "How about Vegie-Tales? Or I think we have some Barbie stickers?"
Haven saw her opening and dove in. "I like stickers with bunnies, squirrels, lambs, dogs, cats, horses,...." She took a deep breath. "Actually, I like any kind of animal," she admitted.
Standing up, the nurse moved as if to leave the room to possibly check for a "better sticker variety." She managed only two steps before Haven continued her explanation.
"But I don't like the scary, mean, wild - kind of animals. Not the bad, angry ones with sharp teeth, mean eyes and huge claws. Not the kind of animals that would attack you, cut you open, kill you and then eat you," she finished innocently.
The nurse tried to keep her laughter in check, but couldn't. And as she openly chuckled, she glanced in my direction - covertly and suspiciously. Her glances told me everything she was thinking. I could hear her mind turning this information over and over again -
"What kind of bedtime stories go on at their house?" Her eyes were loudly saying. "That poor little girl,.... what evil things must her mother say to her?"
Instantly, the scene changed The scene the nurse must have imagined suddenly flashed before me. Me sitting on Haven's bed, with the lights turned down low - way too low,... while dark, moving shadows lurked just inside her closet,..... With an evil smile, I'd begin a bedtime story.
"Once upon a time, Haven,.... There were vicious, wild animals hiding in the forest - outside in our backyard. These wild animals were very hungry and all day long, they would wait for innocent, unsuspecting children to walk by. And when the poor children finally did walk by,.... the evil, horrible animals would jump out from behind the trees, pounce upon the children, rip them open with their razor sharp claws, and then eat them up - piece by piece." At this point I would pause, smile again and lovingly tousle Haven's hair.
"And which teeth did they have, Mama?" Haven would whisper in excitement, pointing to the homemade necklace I proudly wore around my neck. Reaching out her tiny hand, Haven's eyes would be wide in trepidation as she touched each sharp tooth. And there were many teeth. Dangling sinisterly from the dark leather strand around my neck, there were at least 20 "sharp and very scary wild beast teeth."
"Which kind of teeth did the vicious, wild animals have?" Haven would ask again, her eyes bright in the exhilaration of the moment. "Was it that kind?" She'd ask, tracing a stubby finger against one of the longer, discolored fangs. Feeling the sharp edge, she'd quickly pull her small hand back, shocked that she actually touched it.
"No sweetie," I'd tell her, shaking my head. I'd hold her hesitant hand and guide her small fingers to the longer, thicker fang hanging on my necklace. Slowly, I'd sweep her hand along every inch of the the sharp tooth so she wouldn't be afraid. Under my supervision, Haven could feel every angle,... every edge,... every curve,... the very sharpest point of the fang,.... she could even feel the rough texture of the enamel. In awe, she would smile up at me - and I'd smile back a comforting, motherly smile.
"See Haven,... THIS was the tooth from my story," I'd inform her. Then I'd bring the fang closer and closer - and finally, (and very softly...) I'd ever-so gently, use the fang to poke against the soft, fair flesh of Haven's neck. "See how sharp this tooth is, sweetie?" I'd ask, watching her face.
Closing her eyes, Haven would do a little shiver thing, and then a wicked smile would slowly spread up her young face. "Oooooh,... scary," she'd giggle, suddenly understanding the fierce danger involved and yet completely trusting me in the moment. She'd hug me tight - still giggling,.... and then I would giggle too.
Yes. I could see everything the nurse was thinking, just from the looks she was giving me. Haven's comments about vicious, wild animals that rip you open, tear you apart and eat you up- had her seriously wondering about "story time" at our house each night.
An hour later, as I pushed my shopping cart around Target, Haven began going limp over the handles to the cart. With her head hung low, her hair hanging down over her head, the blood began pooling in her head until she had to stop and come up for a break. A glazed look had come into her eyes and small whimpering whines were escaping from the semi-paralyzed cracks in her mouth. She was clearly dying.
"Mama. I'm SO starving......" She kept repeating over and over - and then she'd put a hand to her head and seem to swoon. "I need food,....." she started again. I continued pushing the shopping cart towards the Bakery. A free cookie to each child at Target - completely saves the shopping experience. But after pushing my cart around and around a few times, we finally came to the conclusion that this Target (we were not at my normal one...) did not have a Bakery. A Target with NO Bakery? This sent Haven over the edge. She was surely going to die right here and now in my shopping cart. As we passed each mother (lucky to be blessed without their children...) Haven felt the need to moan and share her misery and near death experience to anyone within hearing distance.
"Mama, what is it called when you can't eat?" She looked up at me with half starved eyes.
"I don't know sweetie, I can't eat when I'm feeling bloated," I offered.
Haven shook her head. "No,..... you know like when your mom never lets you eat anything and your,.... your,...." She shook her head. She couldn't think of the word, but words like dehydrated? Hypoglycemia? Abused? Neglected? were running through my head. Where was all this going anyway? An observer who must have caught an ear full - turned to stare at me a moment. She took her time looking us up and down. I could tell she was seriously wondering if it was true. Was I starving my poor child? At this point, Haven hung like a limp spaghetti noodle over the handlebars of the shopping cart and her tongue was stuck dramatically out of her mouth like a dead person in a cartoon.
"You know Mama," Haven once again tried to think of the word. "Like when you are going to fall down with hunger,...." Another woman was eyeing me cautiously as she walked by. I knew she was thinking of calling social services - I'm sure of it. "FAINT!" Haven suddenly yelled, miraculously sitting up. "That's it! I'm going to faint!" She announced to the store.
"You're not going to faint Haven. It's only just 12:30. Let's go pay for this stuff and then get some pizza over there." Knowing food was within sight, Haven began cheering, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"
Haven helped unload the cart by leaning into it from her upper seat position because this made things faster and the cashier could get all the food bleeped quicker. She passed me the milk just fine. She passed me the kleenex just fine. She past everything to me just fine,... but stopped short when she picked up my small box of Super Maximum OB Tampons. As I was preoccupied getting my credit card out of my wallet,.... I was unsuspecting and unaware of what was about to happen.
"My Mama uses these for when she gets her period," Haven suddenly opened her mouth and offered this little bit of information to the cashier - who was trying to hide her smirk. "She has her period right now, don't you Mama?" Glancing down at Haven, I made an ambiguous "Hmmmm" sound. Pretending to read the box as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, Haven simply stated, "I don't have my period." Looking up again, Haven smiled at the cashier and now all the other woman who had gathered behind us with their shopping carts. "I'm just a little girl," she stated matter of factly. Then slowly she raised her finger and pointed at the cashier. "But YOU get your period," she accused sharply. Glancing up quickly, the cashier looked as if someone had just suddenly poked her in the butt with a sharp pin. "And YOU get your period," Haven informed the woman behind us who was no longer smiling, but had suddenly begun reorganizing her wallet. "And YOU and YOU and YOU and YOU and the lady at the end - in the green sweater- You ALL get your periods too!" Haven was singing loudly now- making up a controversial song that no one seemed to like.
The young cashier next to us was ducking her head and had her back to Haven. Shyly and quickly, she was trying to bleep her line of groceries along- all the while hoping Haven wouldn't notice her. But Haven was mercilessly moving her head around like a tank. Determined not to miss anyone, she spotted the poor girl and pounced. "OH! And YOU get your period too!" Haven yelled, pointing directly at the young cashier who was now trying to disappear behind her long hair.
I was wearing a white sweater, but I suddenly felt like Sissy Spacek in the movie, "Carrie." You know the scene - when she gets set up at the end and a bucket of blood is suddenly dropped over her head at the Prom. As we unfortunate "Scarlet Women" one by one were called out, we merely stood frozen. Although we tried to appear normal we were breaking inside. I know I felt this way! The poor Target cashiers really must have felt like "Carrie," from the movie. In their bright, red Target shirts they all ducked their heads and desperately bleeped groceries in warp speed. When Haven and I finally pushed our shopping cart away, there were no smiles, no waves goodbye,... in fact, our cashier didn't even tell us to have a nice day.
On the way home, Haven's brain was already on the move again - because after only five minutes of silence she launched into a new topic. "Mama? If Lice lay eggs,.... and the eggs hatch,.... and the baby lice grow into mama and dada lices,.... then will those lice lay eggs too?
"Yup," I answered.
"So,... do lice have periods?" she called out innocently.
Smiling, I rolled my eyes. Kids never cease to amaze me. They hear everything and somehow piece it all together. If you just sit and watch a child,..... you can almost hear their minds ticking away as they slowly figure it all out.
"No, sweetie. Lice don't have periods,.... they just lay eggs. And they lay a LOT of eggs!"
"Hmmmmmm," Haven mumbled. Already her mind was rolling out of the station as it set off to another time and place.
The reason for her lice questions? Now that's a story in itself! A horrible, never-ending story that is STILL not over! A story and a dilemma that is going to end up giving me a nervous breakdown! We shall see where the lice story ends,..... perhaps someday I will enlighten you.
To all my good friends: keep a look out for an envelope containing 2 louses in the mail. Imagine teaching your family all about "How Lice Are Born And Raised?" Just like a loving ant farm, your children will learn so much. It could also make a great Christmas gift. Keep checking your mail! "Learning About Lice" is SOON coming to a mailbox near YOU! Compliments of ME!
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