Tornado S needed an MRI, so on the first day of spring break, we went to the clinic to get it done. He was suspicious because last time we were at the clinic, he was forced to give blood. The kid hates getting his finger nails cut. It’s like torture. Imagine trying to get a needle into this kid.
Tornado S has been diagnosed with a developmental delay disorder. Mild, general, physical. But his hand writing is getting worse, so the doctor wanted to make sure Tornado S was not regressing.
The nurse was quick to set Tornado S at ease. She was efficient and cheery. But upon handing me the medical gown, she frowned, looking at Tornado S.
Nurse: See if it will fit him.
It barely made it past his butt.
Nurse: Let me see if I can find a bigger one. (In a moment, she returned and handed me a new gown.) This might be a little big, but it’s the best we got.
Tornado S stripped, and I helped him into the gown. It hit the floor. I giggled to see my boy in a gown.
Tornado S: How do you walk in this thing?
Me: (Thinking back to all the princess dresses I wore as a girl, never missing an opportunity to dress like royalty) You can lift it up like this. Or you can kick-step. Kick-step. Like this. Kick-step. Kick-step.
Tornado S kick-stepped.
Then I remembered this was Tornado S. Uncoordinated Tornado S.
Me: Nevermind. Just pick it up like this.
Tornado S mimicked my gesture and picked up the gown and walked a few steps.
Tornado S: This is annoying. How does anyone do anything in one of these?
Me: Oh, sweetheart, millions of women have been doing everything in dresses like that for thousands of years.
He looked up at me and wrinkled his nose. Yeah, many of them would probably agree with you, kid.
P.S. Everything is fine. He’s just lazy on his handwriting, and yes, I do have pictures of Tornado S in his floor-length gown, smiling up at the camera.