In the land of make believe

Abby and PJ were playing trapeze artist. In Abby's world, trapeze artists introduce themselves to the audience. So she says, "Hi, my name is Abby, and I'm from California." Then, pointing to PJ, "Oh, and this is my baby. She's from space."

***

Abby and I were playing doctor. I was the patient and was instructed to "be sick with something different." So when she came over, I said, "Doctor, help! I can't feel my feet!"

Abby looks at me, skeptical, then looks at my feet and smiles. "Oh! But guess what? You *do* still have feet!"

"I know I still have them--I just can't feel them."

Frowns. "Hm. Well, let me check your ears."

She shoves the end of a paintbrush in my ear. I squawk in pain. "Well, your ears are okay."

We'll see about that, I think, ear throbbing. "So why can't I feel my feet?"

She stands, looks me over, then gets a look of concern on her face. "Hey--can you really not feel your feet, or are you just pretending?"

I have no idea how to answer this question. Is she talking to her mom, or to her patient? "Um...well, we're playing pretend, so yes, I'm pretending. But the pretend me can't feel my feet."

This is apparently the answer she was looking for. She picks up a play spatula. "Do you know what this is?"

"No."

"It's a special light. So you can look at your bones. And it's also a protector, so if your bones are broken, it will protect them. Lift your foot."

"I can't lift my foot, I can't feel it."

She rolls her eyes and hoists my foot, then promptly drops it down. "Your feet are heavy." She hoists again, taps the spatula over my foot, then the other. "Okay. I'm going to give you pills." She holds up a foam bead. "This is a sucky pill. You suck on it until you can smell the taste, then you swallow it." Holds up another bead. "This is a regular pill. You just swallow it." Another. "This is another sucky pill, sort of--you suck it until you can chew it, then you chew it and swallow." Another, though half the size of the others. "This one is for teething."

"But I'm not teething."

"I know. That's why it's small." She hands me the pills. "You'll feel better tomorrow. Come back last week with your bill. But if you have to come before that, then just give me a call."

So there you go--the future of western medicine is safe, complete with unnecessary tests, a handful of pills, and encouragement to keep coming back for more. Though I do like her payment plan.