Tuesday, January 12, 2010

malpractice suit in the making

Caroline has decided she is a veterinarian. She spends a lot of time lifting Reuben's ears and peering into the vast bassetty darkness, looking for earwax, which she calls "gross peanut butter." Or holding the cats' faces and evaluating the "glitteriness" of their eyes as an indicator of their health. We spend a lot of time telling her to leave the pets alone. Luckily, she is sorta gentle. Luckier still, our pets are extremely tolerant.

Today when I saw her holding the [too obliging] cat's tail and moving it slowly in a wave, I asked her to let go.

"What? I'm just making sure it works."

I told her to let. go.

"Mom. I think she swallowed a snake and now it's in her tail. We need to do an x-ray."

I removed the cat.

"Great! [patented arms-crossed preschooler stomp here] So if that snake bites her guts, it's all your fault."

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