For the Record

My kids are not all bad.  In fact, they are sometimes, truly, little angels.  Last week I had to go get some blood drawn (just the standard stuff during pregnancy).  The doctor told me to go over the lunch hour because (his exact words!), "It's usually dead over the lunch hour.  You can just walk in and out."  As a result of this advice, and since I had recruited babysitters two other times last week, I decided to take the kids with me. 

We had our normal morning lessons, piano practice, and then everyone got dressed and we jumped in the car.  We stopped by the clinic in howling winds and darted into the building clutching our jackets around our throats.  There was standing room only in the waiting room.  Perhaps it wasn't yet the lunch hour?  It was only 11:15.  I gave my doctor the benefit of the doubt and took the kids back out to the car, through the gale, over to WBS where we killed a little time visiting Derek and eating candy from the receptionist.

11:45, back to the clinic!  There were now exactly three empty seats, in the most boring waiting room in the world.  Not a single magazine or side table, and the only two microscopic windows covered by people sitting and waiting.  I sighed and decided I was not coming back another day.  Despite the fact that I had not prepared for a long wait, I had gone to all the trouble of getting everyone out of the house in inclement weather, and I absolutely positively HATE needles.  If I made it to the lab, the last thing I should do was leave again...chances are I could come up with at least ten more excuses not to have blood drawn by tomorrow.  So we took a number (76), and sat.

And sat.

And sat.

And the kids ate their pocketed candy from the receptionist.

And we sat.

And the kids wrote on the crumpled church bulletin I dug out of the bottom of my purse.

And we sat.

And the kids counted all the light bulbs in the ceiling.

And we sat.

And intermittently the children asked, "Is it our turn yet?" (we had come when the sign said they were treating number 62 - so we had a little lesson in counting).

And we sat.

And we sat.

For an hour and forty-five minutes!! With no books, no toys, no crayons, no snacks - straight through the lunch hour!  And my two boys did not bicker.  They did not whine.  They were as patient as Job.  When our number was finally called they quietly walked back to the cubicle with me and sat on the wall to watch the nurse draw my blood.  They were pretty fascinated and sat like statues, with great big eyes.  The nurse commented, "I didn't even know their were children in the waiting room!  They are so good!"

And they are!  But the reason they get three times the credit for being good, is because they were good when it really counted.  They were polite, patient, quiet and sweet at a time when it was a serious challenge for even an adult to remain remotely civil.

I took them out for happy meals after to celebrate.